(1.) Black Rock City 1998 Rises
After a 10 hour drive from Los Angeles along the eastern scarp of the
vast tilted block of the Sierra Nevada mountains, I arrived in Reno where I
would get my last bath for 11 days at a Travelodge Motel.
There I met a man who had rented and driven a truck with friends from the
Boston area. He had never been to a Burning Man before, and I briefed him
on things to watch and watch out for. Happily he already had a good base of
knowledge, since he wisely perused the www.burningman.com web site like
anyone going to the event should do. Burning Man takes place on a deserted
flat dry lake bottom, a 'playa' as it is called, about 2 hours north of
Reno. The road there winds through some of the best scenery Nevada, a bleak
state indeed, has to offer while the small towns along the way get smaller
and fewer. Gerlach, the last ramshackle settlement nestled among an
isolated group of trees, is populated by Piaute Indians and people some
would label 'misfits'. Each year their gas station and modest stands and
stores sell as much as they can carry, and they are generally friendly and
always willing to swap stories with you.
The Playa welcomed it's visitors with a wide blank canvas of a crackle
textured light tan thin crust extending for miles with no more than a
centimeter of relief. Below this is a very fine powdery layer which
gradually gives way to the mud remaining of the lake which covered this
flatland months ago. Here and there along the intricately cracked surface
are small stones as black as coal, giving the 'Black Rock Desert' it's
name. Long ago immigrant groups suffered and died here, and the extreme
dryness combined with the baking heat requires continous water intake to
survive.
100 degree temperatures are not uncommon, the shimmering heat reflects
from the ground and into your surroundings even in a modest shade, and
storms often roar through the region. The purple mountains jut upwards in
tapered masses, bluer and more distant ranges peeking from behind the
darker more naturally colored foreground peaks.
Crisp billowing clouds boil up and disintigrate into fractal shreds
against the deep blue skies, with extended cloud formations along the
horizon shedding dark diffuse columns of rain. Distant thunder rumbles
through the emptiness, answered by whooping from the arriving participants.
The site was across the county line from last year, in a section of the
Playa under the jurisdiction of a local government more friendly to the
event.
Predatory persecution was inflicted by the local athorities last year,
who basically impounded all the money gathered at the event on the
flimsiest of technicalities.
This time the event was designed to allow a horizontal expansion of the
tent city into a crescent formation a few miles across. A miles long fence
established the limits of the event, and acted to catch the masses of
inevitable wind carried debris from over 15,000 people expected.
The priority slogans are "Leave No Trace", as well as "No Spectators".
As I arrived, A gate greeter took my ticket, tore off part of it,
handing me back the portion on which was printed the warning that I was
knowingly risking death or serious injury by attending Burning Man.
A map was handed me bearing the concentric and radial pattern of roads
established and labeled in advance, centered around the isolated focus of
the event-the Man itself.
His inverted pyramid shaped head stood perhaps 60 feet above the flat
surroundings, atop a skeletal wooden effigy with it's legs wide apart. His
body and limbs, which during all but the last minutes of its life are
pointed downwards, appeared like skinless wooden airplane models whose
partitions stood exposed, like the floors of tall buildings laid bare by
earthquakes.
Form fitting neon tubes wrapped around some of the contour pieces,
others outlined the broad form of the figure. Surrounded by generators and
banks of lights, the Man stood as a landmark over the gathering community
like a red and purple neon Collossus of Rhodes. This intricately cut and
built abstract manniquin was built by the guild of carpenters of the
Burning Man project, based in San Francisco. The Man was on display in the
city, crowded by and towering among the buildings, for some weeks before
being transported to its final site where it dominates the scene. On the
vertical faces of it's ziggurat-like platform, made of lumber and square
hay bales, was painted a celtic-like interweaved knot pattern.
As soon as I arrived, on the afternoon of Sunday August 30, pitching my
tent during a lull in the wind was my first priority. Only a truck and a
few vehicles of fellow residents had arrived then, and the flatness was
inturrupted elsewhere nearby only by the wide row of pristine porta-potties
recently deposited, as they were throughout the site. 'Disturbia' was one
of over a dozen distinct villages set up by organised groups of people,
this one was composed mostly of people from Boulder, Colorado. I was part
of the village of Disturbia, the sense of communmity in our village was for
the most part achieved on a fairly large scale due to the efforts of some
150 people in touch during the weeks of preparation over the internet.
This was my second year, last year I was astounded at what I saw then
and my experiences this year brought better appreciation of the mechanics
of this yearly miracle on the Playa.
I pitched in on the building of some local structures, and volenteered
to paint a batch of needed signs which others would attatch to posts.
People did specific things which added up to the creation of Disturbia,
and in the evening we shared our meals. I brought a lot more food than I
ate, since everyone around me seemed to cook too much and gave a lot away.
Evening comes swiftly on the Playa.
As the diffuse shadow of the mountains sweeps along the Playa the
surroundings dim steadily, and suddenly you notice the sunlit area is
confined to a narrowing zone along the Eastern horizon. As the shadow line
climbs up the mountains beyond the flatness the serrated peaks glow with
the last coral pink sunlight, contrasting vividly with the indigo shadows.
Beyond all this the deep blue green shadow of the Earth itself appears
and climbs. This rising dark veil of night, appearing as a vast dark broad
soft edged dome most prominent opposite the vanished Sun, is bordered from
the deepening blue skies above by a brighter orange diffuse band.
At an ill-defined moment the diffuse border of this widening darkness
passes the zenith, and the sunlit atmosphere becomes confined to a
narrowing pink region hugging the western horizon. Soon the stars appear,
on this first night when few have arrived the Milky Way asserts itself
among the brilliant stars like a trail left by someone carrying a leaking
sack of diamond dust across a vast jewel studded velvet carpet. Overhead
the great bird Cygnus sails along the Milky Way's path, while along the
Southern horizon Scorpius along with neighboring Sagittarious guard the
secrets of the exotic core of our galaxy.
Hard lessons were learned and spread around early in the life of Black
Rock City, a hay bale set alight had spread it's flames to a nearby
thatched roof structure, leaving one of it's inhabitants homeless and
wheezing in oxygen through a plastic mask while lying prone in an
ambulance. The word passed on about this incident may have prevented a
disaster later.
The official opening was Monday, and an amazing number of people
arrived promptly. by the second night over half of the people seemed to
have arrived, and Black Rock City was well underway. The tent city was
poured into a design chosen with the lessons of past years in mind, and to
lessen the much feared possibility of a massive tent city fire by allowing
lesser density of tents per square mile than in previous years.
Tents sprung up in all sizes from 2 person puptents to great circus sized
structures, tall scaffoldings rising among them with tall poles sporting
lengthly colorful banners writhing in the breeze.
Here and there giant mutated art objects were placed, a great octopus
like being sprawled across the playa space staked out for a group called
the 'Nebulous Entity', an 8 foot tall Rubic's cube, a giant cell phone,
towers with wind catching tassels, a full sized jet aircraft made from
paper mache', and so much more.
Among the things that stood out in my mind in particilar was a 30 foot
square Taj Mahal like structure made of framed chicken wire panels on which
was inbedded in transparent plastic millions of scraps of transluscent
plastic toys, dishes, and junk, all which was shaped into patterns which at
night, when lit from within by rows of florescent lights, shone with the
glory of stain glass windows! Little scenes within opaque outlined arches
along the sides bore Van Gough like trees and figures whose shaded forms
were defined by plastic of carefully varied thicknesses.
In the center camp was the nucleus of activity where info boards, first
aid, and other services were available. The official 'Radio Free Burning
Man' radio station was there, giving survival advice and music along with
several other stations, all broadcasting in the FM band and all quite
illegal.
At the border of the inner inhabited crescent at center camp was a
beautifully modeled tree fashioned out of welded copper tubes. It shone in
daylight with a ruddy metellic sheen and was filled with pumped water which
dripped from the tips of some of it's branches by day, (under which many
congregated) and was by night filled with propane gas which blazed from
many of the same holes. Between the 'One Tree' and the Man, nearly a mile
distant, stretched a row of tall lamp posts, on which the white robed
lamplighters (a priveleged yet humble monklike group dedicated to this
function) hung lanterns each evening. They walked in slow single file rows,
each bearing many lit lanterns hung along either side of wide horizontal
wooden boards carried on thier shoulders.
(2) My Small Project
The project I had set for myself was to build a large sundial, with PVC
pipe, masonite sheets knocked out of the bottoms of old flat file drawers,
and old jars of cartoon colour cell animation paint slowly going bad in my
closet.
At noon I aligned the centerline of my 'painting', composed od side by
side rectangular masonite rectangles staked into the ground in case of
wind, to the shadow of a pipe driven into the ground at the angle above
the horizon of our latitude, about 35 degrees, and aligned to magnetic
North. (for a weeks worth of timekeeping I could be quite arbitrary about
the exact angle of the shadow stick.)
At hourly intervals I marked the shadow location, until darkness filled
our location at half past 6 PM. I then painted a wide half ellipse with the
convex outlined area within the half ellipse filled with a color closely
matching that of the Playa, as if defining half of a fisheye photo's
perspective. At the center of the ellipse, near the shadow stick, I painted
detailed cracks emphasing the surface detail around me. This detail gave
way at the edges to horizontal streaky detail suggesting continuation of
the foreground textures, all sharply cut off by deep blue painted skies at
the outer portions of the masonite rectangle.
Radial to the center rising above the painted curved horizon into the
blue were the black lines of the shadow markers, bearing florescent pink
roman numerals painted atop brilliant white gesso, to give maximum visual
impact.
This occupied me until Tuesday night, and at times it was terrible
painting in the hot sun. I had to sit in my air conditioned car at one
point as I felt what I took to be warning signs to get out of the sun. A
bottle spraying water mist keeping my cloths wet was vital, as well as
drinking as much as 2 gallons per day. A daily paper handed out at
Burning Man was called 'Piss Clear', emphasising the sign of drinking
sufficent water.
The heaviest sunscreen lotion available was liberally used and prevented
me from burning, although I did get painful reminders periodically of
patches of exposed skin I missed. In the early afternoons of a couple of
the days all one could do was cower in the shade, but not in the furnaces
of our tents.
Whenever one had to use the porta-potties in the day it was a terrible
thing, sitting in a plastic sauna with the worst kind of humidity, feeling
good only when relieved and the swiftly accumulating dripping sweat cooling
outside in the breeze. Later one had to be selective about which toilets to
use, a flashlight at nighttime a must. Urine cemented mud covered thier
floors as the days progressed but the paper was always kept in supply.
Many never got the word you were supposed to close the toilet lids
afterwards to minimise the smell in between visits.
I had applied silver mylar sheets to the outside of my tent, and by
doing so extended greatly the time I could sleep in in the morning.
Normally one would be awakened shortly after sunrise by the Sun baking the
tent fabric and heating the air within, but with the reflective coating I
could sleep until nearly noontime.
This gave me more flexability in my evening activities and still get the
8 hours of sleep I so dearly love.
Music reberverated from a dozen places, live and recorded. The bands
there were surprisingly good, pouring out hours and hours of etherial
dreamy music, with drumbeats always audible day and night. Out in the playa
you could hear many sources of music, like tuning into one of those empty
places in the AM radio band at night and hearing many faraway stations of
discordent types warbling in and out of the distance, nearing any one sound
source immersed you in that particular musical experience.
One definitely needed earplugs to sleep, but anxiety about occassional
nearby explosions made even this measure only partly effective at times.
(3.) The Wonders of the Playa
Each succeeding evening got a bit wilder, with more arrivals and loud
partying everywhere.
At least half of the people were from the San Francisco Bay area, with
nearly half the remainder from the Boulder-Denver area, and the rest from
everywhere else. I saw English visitors, and some from Germany, France,
Israel, Japan, and Australia.
The average age seemed between 30 and 40, with representatives of all
but the oldest in the population. There were few children, but a special
camp existed for thier needs. Somehow I think if I was a parent I would be
scared to death to let children out of my sight there, but I chose not to
have children partly to avoid such thoughts.
Some of the men amd women exibited pierced nipples, a few with widely
distended cavities forced into thier earlobes. Many bodies were adorned
over large areas with artful but prominent tattoos, and many women sported
nose rings and pierced lower lips. Hair coloring was widely and garishly
present, and perhaps 5 percent of women declined to cover thier breasts, a
smaller percentage of men and women walked about entirely naked, but mostly
about thier own camps. After a while it seemed normal.
And so it should be at least possible.
Our minds are so screwed up by the commercial media that any effort to
reclaim an Eden like innocence has to run the gauntlet of shame and leering
barbarians which are the legacy of what has been shoved down our throats
all our lives.
Many people wore costumes evoking the personas they wished to live for
that moment. Here you can be yourself, just being respectful of others
along the way.
One indulgence often seen was people playing with explosives and
fireworks.
Late Wednesday night I followed two shadowy figures carrying a large
package out into the emptiest part of the dark playa.
At first they were afraid I might be the Law, but after I reassured them
otherwise they confided they had some major and very illegal fireworks, I
believe they were nicknamed 'star shells'.
I was then advised "You don't want to be here" !
Satisfying myself with standing not far from the person not actually
lighting the rocket's fuze, less than 100 feet away, through the DV
camcorder's viewfinder I saw a glimmer of flame, then a blast of sparks
spraying against the ground as the skyrocket whooshed into the nigh. A
column of sparks bearing the invisible rocket climbed higher, higher, I
craned my neck to follow the dizzingly racing projectile upwards until
hundreds of feet directly overhead a dazzling spherical blast of blue and
white brilliance steadily filled the sky! The sound of the blast roared
across the black flatness as the Dandalion shaped mass raced to all
horizons at once, it's far side sparks noticably more crowded in
perspective than those in the near half of the hollow spherical mass! They
all went out before they reached the ground, and although I was concerned
about hot clinkers falling on me none materialised.
It was terrifying and wonderful!
Then I watched the moonlit smoky remnants of the explosion, a radial
patterned mass of spiky smoke trails, drifting like a huge ghostly long
spined sea urchin against the stars beyond. The liniar smoky spikes near
me revealed perspective in thier greater apparent motion compared with
those stretching skywards.
I thought for a moment of Carl Sagan's 'Ship of the imagination' from
the TV series 'Cosmos'.
A second rocket was lit, with equally spectacular results, crimson
and green blazing spots on an invisible expanding balloon threatening to
take over the sky. The moonlit smoke remnants were entrancing.
Thursday I finally explored the entire city, which took hours. Many
were racing about on bicycles, some on odd homebuilt contraptions pedal and
motor powered.
Once you arrived, there was no driving about on the playa, a rule which
ended the major cause of past deaths at Burning Man. The exception to this
were the 'Art Cars' which entertained wherever they went.
Many of these cars were still recognisable automobiles covered with
thousands of toys, etc, while a few were completely reshapen sculptures
built over the essential parts, such as a 20 foot long shark including a
tail which swished from side to side as controlled by the driver.
Even less orthodox motor vehicles were there, including motorised
couches, beds, a picnic table, and large functioning bars and performance
stages complete with drinking patrons and amplified musical acts.
Most astonishing to me was a giant land yacht, with a sail some 40 feet
tall and a massive sprawling metal framework extending from the passenger
area bearing big truck tires, two at a time.
This great land yacht ended up being involved in the biggest disaster
of the event two days later.
Wandering into the emptiness here and there you would come upon
isolated things people had set up. A metal sculptured sunflower sported
leaves which in the wind banged out a hollow zinging rhythm. At an
isolated spot was placed a full sized jet black monolith such as appeared
in '2001-A Space Odyssey'.
One distant wonder was a peacock tail like array of radial violet
banners, flowing and glowing vividly in the wind. This was made by the same
individule who created the wonderful colorful giant tent I had so admired
last year.
A triple towered structure, the 'Temple of Rudra', was another
prominent but isolated horizon landmark, bearing a stage with large steps
leading up to it between the 30 foot towers, and a group of metal mesh
humanoid figures with insect heads sporting long antennas guarded the
corners of this giant sculpture. One such figure sitting above an oval
opening bore the multiple limbs of a dancing Shiva.
So many wierd and wonderful things were there, one camp had shallow
swimming pools in which a group of naked people were being coated with food
coloring, creating yellow, green, red, and blue people.
A rickshaw carried a young naked woman in a sheltered beanbag with
shading palm fronds arching over her, with the driver pouring bags of dry
pinto beans over her. She said it felt good. I can't count the times I
made a point of NOT raising my tiny camcorder every time a woman passed by
with no top!
Quite frankly human bodies are a quite common thing, while most of what
I shot when I happened to have the camera with me were the art
installations, the clouds, and of course the dust storms!
A group wearing U.S. Post office uniforms displayed model automatic
weapons, in homage to the expression 'Going Postal' forged from so many
grim American headlines.
Poor Bill Clinton's effigy was made into a 'presidential lotion
dispensor', with an erect model penis the vessel of delivery. Ah, well, he
brought all that on himsalf. A bowling alley was set up, the 'Cock and
Bowl' lanes, with naked players trying to knock down a set of penis shaped
bowling pins. Thier aim was very bad that day.
A chorus of Middle East style "YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI" cries came from a
long single file line of women riding bicycles naked or bare breasted, a
tradition during the last full day of the event. They seemed to be
asserting thier right to dress (or undress) however one wished, and say to
hell with the prudish and especially to the gawkers.
Colored smoke grenades dabbed the sky along the horizon with puffs of
pastel hues. while occassional zipping model rockets left thin white trails
against the mountains, twisting and dissipating quickly under the pervasive
winds.
Thursday night was especially intense, in my wanderings I beheld two
things I had never seen before.
The first was something visible throught the area, a laser beam more
powerful than anything I knew could be made portable. It was an intense
green, and burned a path through the sky like the heat ray of H.G. Well's
martians! It was so bright the column of light was stopped only by the
clouds and distant mountains, the latter showing plainly the illuminated
spot wherever the beam touched. I was told it was a FIVE WATT laser, and
whatever it touched was too bright to look at. Someone put thier hand into
the beam and jerked it back in pain, a small sizzle pit suddenly in his
palm.
Another fellow actually lit his cigarette with the beam!
Unfortunately the operator was dangerously irresponsable with the beam,
frequently sweeping along ground level, even across people.
One person a quarter mile away suffered a swipe across his retina when
he happened to look that direction at the wrong moment, but the spots in
his vision were gone by the next day. I repeatedly warned the operators of
the laser and everyone nearby to avoid exposing retinas to the beam, and I
shielded my eyes with my hands whenever I was anywhere nearby. Once when I
was in my tent looking outside my car was brilliantly illuminated by the
beam, vivid green and brighter than the Sun as the column of light passed
my way for a moment. Fortunately the source was 90 degrees to my right,
well out of my line of sight.
Several times I walked out to the Man to be immersed in it's isolated
magenta neon glow along with other pilgrims. During one such excursion I
beheld a glowing column of some bizzare electrical parade making its way
along the dark playa towards us, and soon I was treated to something
amazing.
Imagine complicated patterns of interweaved glowsticks flashing on and
off in sequence so as to make dancing repeating patterns like that of
complicated neon signs! It was a group of people wearing armatures over
thier clothing made of coiled flexable wires. These wires were coated with
phosphors which glowed under electrical current passed through batches of
such wires in sequence.
One such array was placed over a bicycle which simulated through a
rapidly changing sequence of outlines a galloping horse!
Another wonderful such thing was a large butterfly with flapping
wings, driven by a man sitting in a chariot behind, wearing a glowing
streamlined winged helmet! This seemed like the infancy of future wonderful
things, and was put together by a group reachable at www.earthcircus,com,
or so they said.
Fountains of fireworks sprayed from far behind the foreground
structures back at camp, and wild warbling music echoed through the region.
The giant white tent nearby was lit by colored lights like a giant rainbow,
with banks of lights on towers illuminating the nearby musicians. A great
shower of sparks erupted skywards as a heavy grinding wheel had iron bars
deliberately fed into it.
Wherever one walked, astonishing things appeared.
A huge hot air balloon, it's gondola held by several people, lit up
its surroundings as a jet of flame was periodically unleashed to heat the
air within. This was done only while the opening of the gasbag was
actually over the burner as the breeze rocked the giant balloon back and
forth. It's upper surfaces gleamed in the turquoise moonlight against the
stars when the burner was silent. It's sheer size was astonishing against
the sky.
A buzzing roar and distant flash of light attracted my attention, and
another walk across the moonlit darkness was rewarded with the sight of a
large Tesla coil, its metal horizontal toriod shape atop a tower spewing
forth purple edged lightning like bolts, writhing and branching as thier
deafening sputtering roar tore through the night. This attracted quite a
crowd, which roared thier approval when the display ended.
A MacDonald's clown figure was used as the target for a group giving
lessons in making and throwing Molotov Cocktails (you use palm oil as a
favored thickening agent in the gasoline) Mock Jesuses were displayed here
and there, not so blasphemous as last year but I'm sure some would object.
Burning Man is not for the weak hearted.
Some Cultural icons, such as Disney, The City of Reno, and the recently
deceased Shari Lewis and Frank Sinatra, were leeringly represented by sick
humored parody. Unprintable lyrics were sung by a pair of women with
loudspeakers to the tune of 'New York, New York', sometimes with such
drunken glee they broke out laughing during the performance.
The music and explosions made sleep impossible for me that evening, I
might have dozed off for an hour before noticing the orb of the Sun peeking
above the distant mountains, adorned with coppery streaks of distant cloud.
Finally as the temperature climbed in the tent I gave up on sleep.
(4.) The Wind and The Rain
For awhile Friday morning I stumbled about, knowing rest would be
impossible until after nightfall. A neighbor brought a solar heated shower
rig, so at least I got to shower (you just stood naked against the world
along with many others-no need to be shy there!) and washed my hair, a very
welcome thing after several days in the Playa!
Normally I soaked a towel with water and wiped my body off once or twice
a day to keep, or at least feel, clean. Then I changed into some clean
cloths. My comfort was to be short lived.
The initial brilliance of the harsh morning Sun began to be relieved by
the shadows of the gathering clouds, and gradually it became obvious that
weather was about to take center stage in the drama around me. There is a
feeling you get when weather gets exciting, with every earthly concern,
even exaustion, being swept away in the awesome play of the elements around
us.
Bursts of wind swept loose objects along the ground while towering
cumulus clouds rolled skywards and merged with thier neighboring towers.
I was half way across the tent city when I saw this approaching storm
pouring out a thick column of rain. Around the dark rain was an eruption of
dust being stirred up by the surrounding downdraft.
People yelled "Take cover!" and sirens on towers and bizzarrely
customized fire trucks wailed in warning. The dense dust cloud, more or
less shapeless in the distance, grew as it approached, and I hurried back
to Disturbia. As I arrived I saw great ground hugging blankets of light tan
playa dust on either side of me in front of the mountains, with smaller
local clouds of dust springing up here and there around me. I made sure
everything was secured, paying particular attention to the flat masonite
pieces I had brought. Then a wall of dust rose before me, and first distant
then nearby structures dissappeared beneath it's dense mass.
Then it reached me.
I stood outside with my still camera, taking pictures as others ran
this way and that amid the swift flurries of powder sweeping past us and
merging with greater carpets of ground hugging dust, large broiling
turbulences sending diffuse billows high into the sky. Only nearly overhead
were the comparitively quiescent cumulus cloud masses still dimly visible,
all was tan below, with very dense gray patches racing past in a dizzying
pace. Finally I was completely immersed in the densest part of the storm,
turning about and taking pictures of nearby objects such as my tent
dissappearing into the opaque mass until there was simply nothing left to
photograph. There was no visibility beyond 20 to 30 feet, and the shrieking
gale carried scraps of tent fabric, plastic cups, empty water jugs, and
anything else light and loose along with it in and out of sight. Suspended
fabrics and sheeting rippled and strained against thier binds with
violently swift shudders. Larger suspended parachute roofs filled and
emptied thier volumes in great rolling waves along thier lengths,
frantically grabbed at by thier tenants.
Among the shrieking winds I heard crashes of things impacting, screams
of the afraid, and whooping hollars of the thrilled.
It made me think of Pompeii for a monent being overwhelmed by volcanic
ash.
I could no longer face the wind due to dust in my eyes, so I turned my
back to the wind, but it was starting to be hard to breath as fine dust
passed down my throat. I put the neck of my shirt above my mouth and closed
my eyes for a bit. I then strode to my car, and after closing the door sat
in a relitively dust free enviornment, my last line of personal defense,
with the wind rocking my car and whistling against it's sides. Yells and
other sounds of chaos continued from within the irregular gusts around me.
For 10 minutes I might as well have had painted windows, but during a
period of less dust I saw something which brought me out of my car in a
hurry.
My tent was being drastically misshapen by the wind, the normally
convex shapes of the dome tent turning concave on the windward side! I was
afraid the fibreglass poles might snap or something, so I scurried into the
tent, and held it's shape in place from inside against the buffeting
windbursts with outstretched arms.
Finally the wind subsided, and I moved out of my tent. Then I felt the
dust, in every cranny of my cloths and body and hair. My long hair felt
awful, it's bulk seemingly doubled by the dust. As the Sun reappeared, the
dust, sunblock, and sweat mixed together into an unpleasent body coating I
v aliently tried to ignore.
I had opened the window flaps top reduce the stress on the tent during
the worst of the storm, and the consequences of this had to be dealt with
next. Everything in the tent, sleeping bag, pillow, and cloths not in the
suitcase had to be taken out and shaken to remove the very fine flour like
dust which had passed through the insect screens. The floor has to be
swept, and a tear in the mylar insulation repaired. But the tent had held.
The dust storm then passed by us and swept onto the nearby mountains,
at times suspended in a discreet detatched layer stretching along the
horizon. For an hour I felt stunned, and avoided external stimulation
while I recovered emotionally from the crisis. Nobody nearby was injured.
I was hoping this would discourage the more casual visitors from returning,
with the event more likely to be populated by those really part of the
scene. As one member of Disturbia loudly announced, "This will seperate the
wheat from the chaff!"
Sprinkles of rain falling at dusk were almost welcome, but the moisture
was not quite enough to do anything about the dust. Night fell, the
fireworks and revelry ratcheting itself back up in the last full night of
Black Rock City. More giant lasers, one a brilliant red, were in evidence
whipping thier beams this way and that.
Eruptions of fireworks shot from the horizon, and red flares arced above
the sea of lights of the tent City. Some were fired from within the city.
Somehow amid the music and occassionally alarming noises, more subdued
tonight because of the waether, I dropped off to sleep.
Never was I more grateful the next morning.
Saturday was the last full day the community would exist, and I explored
a good deal, photographing and admiring the many of the imported constructs
on display.
About 16,000 people had arrived, mostly dedicated Burning Man people
arriving first then later a few thousand 'locals' from Reno and other
smaller towns nearby. These last minute arrivals were mostly the ones to
watch out for, they contained hundreds of thieves and gawkers with base
beer guzzling demeanors hoping to 'get a look at some tits'. During the
first several nights one had little reason to fear theft, but late in the
event the word was out to lock any valuables in your car trunk when you
weren't around.
Saturday was also a day the weather repeatably made good on its own
glowering threats.
Twice that day the dust storms returned, but this time I was better
prepared. I had torn a sheet into a long strip I wrapped around my head
leaving only a gap to see through. A set of swimming goggles with
watertight edge seals fit under my glasses and I walked around my tent
looking for problems, scissors, tape, and mylar in hand. The opaque gusts
were more energetic and erratic than yesterday, but the open ventilation
flaps caused less stress to the tent than before. The jerks and tugs of the
wind, however, took its toll on the silver mylar coating. and as rips
appeared and spread I leaned over the tent roof and made repairs. For
perhaps 20 minutes I paced around the tent keeping up with the damage in
the covering I depended on for a comfortable sleep. After the storm
subsided the mylar looked like the skin of the Frankenstein monster with
the patches and tape all over it, but the covering was intact. I noticed
people looking over the scene from atop the 30 foot hollow wooden pyramid I
had assisted in beginning to set up, and they warned about another wave of
dust approaching.
Reasonably satisfied with the prospects for my tent, I entered the
ground level entrance of the wooden pyramid and watched the man who built
it use a power tool to seal up the opening with long screws. A structural
weakness on that wall caused the side to begin to tear off during the last
storm, so I was stuck there, with others seeking refuge until the storm
subsided.
The perspective from the small peak platform was a welcome change from
being 'in the soup' down below.
Most of the dust sweeping by was below me, and some sense of the scope
of the event could be appreciated. Many smaller dust clouds moved in
unified radial perspective as they approached, with the roads becoming hazy
bright partitions of dust contributing significently to the ariel mess. Low
sheets of tan powder swept by a yard or two high, with masses of taller
plumes racing along in swift surges like a raid from a ghostly horsemounted
hoard. In the distance a fuzzy blanket of dust thickened and climbed on one
side higher and higher, to fill that part of the sky with dust clouds
extending from along a third of the horizon.
Groups of people were holding onto ropes, corners of big tents, and
pushing against the wind on partitions to keep them from being torn loose,
like sailors of old weathering a bad storm on a sailing ship. Most people
had some kind of mask on, concentrating on thier tasks as they passes in
and out of visibility. I videotaped all this from my high vantage point,
and conversed with others who had taken refuge on this small platform atop
the bright silver pyramid.
Finally the storm passed us by, the stampeding cloud of dust swept up
along the sides of the nearby mountains, settling into the valleys between
the peaks like a ground hugging fog in a chinese silk painting.
Someone told me 'Your hair has just gotten a lot grayer!" and sure
enough even from this high up enough dust filled my hair to make a little
cloud in itself as I shook my head. Trying to brush such dust out of long
hair is an excersise in unpleasant futility, I took another shower, washed
my hair, and was more fortunate in the weather afterwards than the previous
day.
After I had dealt with my immediate concerns, word trickled in of
events elsewhere in Black Rock city.
Dozens of people were injured in the storms by flying debris, tents
were destroyed, and a giant nearby shade structure nicknamed 'Shadezilla'
had to be renamed 'shredzilla'.
Most disasterous was the fate of the giant land yacht mentioned
earlier. It had been cavorting about when it was caught in the wind,
piloted by an operator unwittingly incapacitated, with a dozen people
clinging for thier lives. In the gale it careened uncontrollably, tons of
mass speeding towards the edge of the tent city with many cowering in thier
shelters. The giant sailed vehicle crashed into the triple towered Temple
of Rudra mentioned earlier, it's terrified passengers hurling themselves
off the out of control collossus just before impact! They were flung about
like rag dolls, with one unfortunate victim having a leg crushed flat as
the giant tires ran over him.
After the accident the poor driver lay prone on his back, wildly delerious.
It was at first assumed he was terribly liable but it turned out he had
innocently accepted a drink from a short haired man with a portable
gasoline powered blender. He had apparently thruout the day deceptively
dosed several people with a powerful dissasociative drug called GHB that I
had never heard of.
(5.) The last day of Black Rock City
Here and there the fabric of responsable control the event depends
upon began to unravel on Saturday.
A couple merrily wandered from thier campsite leaving three Rotweiler
dogs chained to a pile of beer sixpacks, who shortly after being left alone
struggled to free themselves as a plastic fire somehow started and spread
in the camp.
The dogs frenzied struggles finally pushed down the pile of beer bottles,
which in turn caused the upsetting and ignition of 20 gallons of stored
chemical solvents. In the ensuing fire the dogs and three sports utility
vehicles nearby were consumed, all while the couple blissfully wandered,
perhaps wondering about the plume of black smoke extending over thier
neighborhood of the city.
Many people lost cameras, radios, and bicycles they didn't secure.
Others underestimated the dosage of thier indulgences.
Night fell, the fireworks and revelry ratcheting itself back up in
the last full night of Black Rock City. More giant lasers, one a brilliant
red, were in evidence whipping thier beams this way and that.
Eruptions of fireworks shot from the horizon, and red flares arced above
the sea of lights of the tent City. Some were fired from within the city.
In the darkness clouds regathered and it started to rain, first in
isolated sprinkles like last night, then with sustained pouring, steadily
turning the playa into a sea of mud. This mud would get on your shoes and
pick up yet more mud, giving one instant platform shoes of different
thickness from step to step. Fortunately the storms rarely last long here.
I retired to my tent, listening to the raindrops pattering on the
fabric and the curses of those trying to walk any distance outside. I
thought of the possibility of lightning, and of the metal scaffolding 30
feet from my car.
Later in the darkness the rain subsided, and I decided to take a walk,
then the rain began again. The activity this evening was more subdued, few
bands outside and fewer fireworks.
The brilliant green laser was fully engaged, this time as two
parrallel beams which tonight were shaped into two wide ribbon shapes,
highlighting every raindrop within them. The drops revealed differenced in
the density of the rainfall and cross sections of smoke from cooking fires
along thier considerable length.
I then noticed something odd, an apparent dense region of rain which
remained stable in its location as I stared at it. How can rain maintain
any shape like that over time, I asked myself, then I walked closer to that
part of the beam to examine more closely this queer phenomonon. It receded
as I approached.
Suddenly in a flash I realised what I was seeing, something that very
possibly has never been seen before.
It was a laser rainbow.
The two parrallel ribbons of green light bore two thin segments of a
narrow arc of green light and green light only, with darkness on either
side of the green band. Inside the band was another narrower weaker band,
then more, crowding together into the outer fringe of the brighter zone of
refracted light inside the bow. A weak secondary bow was seen outside the
main 45 degree arc, with the characteristic darker zone in the space
between the two bows. There seemed to be subtle sharply defined broad zones
of light and dark well outside these more familiar rainbow features, and a
distinct brightning at the distantly illuminated portions of the sky
directly opposite the laser light sources, at the center of the arcs. With
my back to the light source while examining these features the color was a
pale green, but as I turned to face the illumination the falling drops
shown with the stunning emerald green.
I walked under the twin beams and behald an amazing 'V' shape against
the black sky, an apparation of apparently infinite size, yet its shape
could be altered by moving a little to one side.
Later, taking advantage of the dampening of the activity, I slept,
aided by a healthy dose of Melatonin, earplugs, and headphones outside the
earplugs listening to the white noise between FM radio stations. I was
exausted, and slept 10 hours that night. I would need it.
Just after I fell asleep my friend and fellow space artist Carter
Emmart finally arrived, with his loudly but well painted station wagon
sporting a wide acrylic dome on top and innumeral toys filling its
interior.
When I learned of his arrival Sunday morning I showed him some of the
sights, and wandered about myself as well to looking for things I might
have missed. There is so much at Burning Man one is hard put to see it all,
even over a week. That evening it would dissolve into chaos.
There was an edge of exitement which steadily built throught the day,
as burnable material was piled into heaps well apart from the main tent
city.
A small truck passed by, bearing a scaffolding from which some
consious person swung suspended from hooks passed through the skin and
muscles of his back!
The Burning Man himself was swung down on its ankle hinges, being loaded
with pyrotechnics inside a gaurded fenced off zone around one side of the
pedestal.
Back at Disturbia it was snack time, with various intoxicants being
broken out and passed around. I am offered a local elixir known as a 'blue
margerita'. (electric blue in fact, and light on the alchohol.)
I consider carefully, knowing the source well and pondering my
responsabilities and acceptable range of risks, and I make the only
responsable decision my logic deems appropriate to such a safe and sane
occassion.
Two hours later, I wander about immersed in a shape shifting blooming of
alert glowing joy. Pulsing light spills in from my corners of vision wether
my eyes are open or closed., and the whistle of the winds through the
bannered towers sings of the textures and shapes it twists through along
the way.
Tubes of light suggest slits through which the radience from the world
beyond this one leaks.
Drumming steadily gathers in amount and intensity.
Discreet unloading of explosives and fireworks were taking place, and
piles of wood and hay were steadily gathered well apart from the main city
here and there on the playa. Already bonfires were springing up here and
there, and people carried and dragged flammable sacrifices to the flames
of the evening.
About 20 people carried on thier shoulders a wooden framework pyramid
divided into many subsections. The music steadily picked up its pace and
volume. shouts and sirens blared in the distance, and megaphoned manaics
made phony pronouncements, spewed stream of consiousness patter, and
berated passers by appearing too much like 'spectators'.
Dusk settled in above a dying crimson remnant of sunlight on the
modest cloud cover. drumbeats filled the gathering darkness from beyond
several bands whose craziness carried the sounds made by thier instruments
into a careening warbling barely structured musical cacophany. It was
dramatic and zany, the constant pounding beyond phasing in and out of the
foreground music at hand. It all added up to a many faceted sprawling
experience wrapped in the blazing sea of lights filling half the horizon,
spotlights and lasers piercing the sky above while flares and skyrockets
climbed toward the few remaining stars and arced back down.
Crowds gathered and shifted about, there was little focus to everyones
attention, even the Man himself attracted only a minority of the
population.
As Carter and I headed towards the towering figure, I noticed the first
substantual change in it's shape over all these days-the Mans arms were up
in a 'V' reaching for the sky instead of by it's side.
The end was near.
Three large balls of wood on tripods stood apart from the Man in an
equidistant triangle, and they began to burn within, soaked in chemicals
that brought a peciliar light blue color to thier flames. Dancers,
stiltwalkers, and fiery baton twirlers raced back and forth and about the
man, trumpets and drums thundered into the night as the croud gathered
around the 100 foot wide safety zone and yelled "Buurrrnn!!!"
Smoke plumes along the horizon climbed and merged, lit orange bemeath
and fringed with the light of the rising full Moon behind.
The Moon first appeared from within a patch of distant high clouds, as
it asserted its maximum brilliance on this of all nights. Just above it was
the steady bright beacon of Jupiter, the two brightest celestial bodies
passing slowly across the sky in close formation all that night.
(6.) The Death of Black Rock City
Most people gathered in front have actually sat down, and chants of
"BURN...BURN...BURN..." pass in and out of general synchronization.
One nearby man stands and intones in a low glutteral resonate voice:
"BUUuUuRrRrRrRrRrRrrrrrrrrnnnnnn!!" , lower and lower each time until it's
lionine almost gurgling vibration brings shivers to me. It sounds like he
is channeling Satan or something! His voice rises in a threatening tone and
you can imagine him showing his lower teeth: "BUURRRNnnnnnn!!"
Other voices shriek out that word, often initiating another round of
rythmic roaring. Staffs and torches move with the chanting:
"BURN!...BURN...BURN!"
Flame throwers pointed straight up are wheeled into place, the
hammering of the drums seemingly adrenalin enhanced as twin 50 foot
fountains of fire roar and billow upwards beside the Man!
"BURN...BURN...BURN...BURN!"
A naked statuesque woman stands between the legs of the Man, atop the
pedestal like a signal trumpeteer perched on a castles tower. She is
stretching one arm to extend her staff skywards as her body arches in the
poses of ancient graceful statues. She gestures as if giving the OK for the
energy building up the past week to be unleashed!
Fireworks spray into the sky from inside the fringes of the crowd,
exploding and dissapearing as red flares arc down and leave wiggly trails
on thier way back down. More fires appear along the horizon.
"BURN!!...BURN!!..BURN!"
A flash of mobile flame! A fire sprite! A stuntman in a burning
coverall replaces the woman between the legs, walks to one leg than the
other carrassing key locations, then gets the hell off the pedestal!
Fire spreads like lightning along the Man's limbs, one barely has time
to appreciate the start of the key event of the gathering when a loudly
sputtering sparkling mass envelops the torso, white spears of light erupt
upwards on all sides of the brilliant center, and an overwhelming mass of
hundreds of incadescent spines explode outwards in a dense diverging swarm,
spreading and arcing down like a titanic active fiber optic light tree.
Dense smoke broils from the hidden Man, sparing our eyes the searing
brilliance of the masses of burning magnesium within. From the top of the
towering brilliant plume roars spears of glittering fire, exploding and
splitting into golden branches extending far above us.
The crowd roars it's dazzled enthusiasm at the spectacle! and the
burning of the wooden man once again becomes the focus of attention as the
pyrotechnics subside.
He is blazing from head to toe, the inverted pyramid head partly blasted
away. The neon has died, and a many streamers of disintigrating adornments
pour from the outstretches arms. The hay bale pedestal is furiously burning
along its entire surface, the entire structure creating a great mountain of
flame still shaped by the design of it's fuel.
"BURN!...BURN!...BURN!!"
The drumming reaches a fever pitch, the fire brings the sillouetted
wooden skeleton in and out of view, and still he stands...an arm sags,
then collapses, and for a time the Man stands like it is giving a "Seig
Heil" salute from whatver corner in Hell the hard core Nazis are kept.
The full moon ripples crazily above the flames, fluttering like Mars
seen through a telescope on a night with very poor seeing.
The other arm falls, turning the rest of the structure into a kind of
flaming effigy of the Eiffel Tower.
"BURN!...BURN!...BURN!!"
And finally the end comes, the house of cards collapses in on itself
starting as the structure so carefully built into the man at last tumbles
into a chaotic heap atop a flattening mass of blazing hay and wood. A final
roar arises from the crowd as thier prayers are answered, and the
organization of the event gives way to frenzied anarchy as a surge of
people run into the zone a moment ago off limits around the Man. The giant
bonfire resulting is danced around, often naked, and the fringes of the
crowd break off into dissolving and reforming wandering groups pausing at a
hundred dumbfounding spectacles.
You are in no sterile theme park run by a corporation, you take your
life in your hands this night, with fireworks firing and misfiring around
you.
Merging columns of smoke from house sized bonfires luridly glow in the
moonlit night, and a crazy drumming cacaphony accompanies arsonist mobs
running, dancing, and wandering from one center of brilliant fiery
eruptions to another. You move about in danger, senses primed for your
life and you try to avoid crowds, and especially crowds and fire.
Running figures skurry about, some in concern, others in meschievous
deliberation. Fireworks are hissing skywards everywhere, I pause to look at
a nearby display happening where I was about to go, then a big rocket
explodes at ground level, bathing a scattered crowd I was about to be in
the middle of with branches of shimmering fire. Someone runs, carrying a
long board with a mass of flame on the other end larger than he is. A pile
of speaker boxes burns furiously, hammered and gouged at by three men with
long '2X4' boards. The smoke is crisscrossed by the great green laser
acting as a rotating fluttering fan of multiple beams.
Bursts of fireworks explosions rise almost wherever you turn your gaze.
A very loud sharp bang is felt as much as heard, leaving a sizable mushroom
cloud billowing atop a tall smoky stalk, moon and fire light playing across
its rolling contours.
A crowd has gathered around the local attraction, a Las Vegas show-girl
attired woman dancing on the back of a large golden calf modeled with
exaggerated male organs. I am reminded of ancient Babylon, and as I moved
on in the distance the crowd eruptedas the dancer dismounted the bull and
possibly gave them really something to look at!
A fairly large tent (hopefully expendable) ripples into flames along
its length in moments, loosened cloth fluttering amid the yellow masses of
fire. Some very big fires are now visible, surrounded by sillouettes of
heads and lance like staffs. One fire seems perhaps a half city block in
size, well into the playa and pouring a very wide region of red smoke
skywards. Many columns of smoke merge, lit luridly near the ground. People
wearing variations of glow sticks stride and dance in groups. A big
flexable glow-stick jump-rope is being tried out by a naked couple,
unfortunately neither the rope handlers or the jumpers seem up to the task
at the moment.
The community begins to die in great fiery sighs.
People throw things into the flames and run back for more. Horns
screech crazily and drums ripple like thunder reberverating through the
night. The roaring of crowds and the crashing brass bands echo against
each other as clouds of sparks boil in shimmering whirling masses. Between
the smoke clouds the broad curved masses of distant moonlit clouds stretch
across the skies.
In one elevated pavilion people stand up to microphones, made to
answer hostile questions and often provoking enraged amplified responses by
an invisible OZ-like character, accompanied by tall twin jets of flame
which light up the entire region!
In the darkness around my feet a dark spot flits about, I dismiss it as
an ash mote caught by the wind, but as I approach it seems to zig then zag
as if consciously avoiding me. Could this be a small dark mouse? I try to
get close enough to see in the darkness but it never lets me get near. It
dissappears under a strangers sleeping bag, I tell him I think I'm chasing
a mouse and he says "It's the drugs, man!" (And he might just be right!)
I head back to 'Disturbia' to see how things are there.
All looks well, but just beyond the huge circus tent a wide formation
of great underlit rolling masses of smoke rise threateningly. People report
smelling burning hair. From uncomfortably close whistling shafts of
glittering sparks scream skywards and explode. At times I amuse myself bit
estimating the time and distance of explosions between seeing the flash and
hearing the bang. Many are less than a second apart.
It is reasonably safe, the worse of what can happen here has passed us
by. Slowly the Moon travels over a vast party which steadily unwinds over
the hours as the fires without and the chemical conciousness within slowly
peters out. Steadily the pace of the action slows, more are lying prone
alone or with lovers and little more than the drumming can be heard in the
last hours of darkness.
(7.) Aftermath
As dawn finally breaks dozens of smoldering heaps of ash are spread
across the scene, and the tearing down of what has been set up commences.
Some will be here for days and even weeks cleaning up the Playa, I remove
every trace of my visit, hauling to a nearby bonfire all the wood I
brought, including my sundial. The ashes will be collected and removed by
the Project, along with the contents of many incinerators they have erected
along the border between the tent city and the Playa.
One rumor to the contrary, it seems that for the second year in a row
no one has died, although over a dozen were hospitalised, and about 200
required medical aid during the event. Many of there were victims of
windstorm accidents, burns, heatstroke, and drug overdoses.
A few were hurt in auto crashes outside the event, and several people
were arrested while being stupidly arrogant about visibly flaunting the
using and selling of certain intoxicants when they should have known better.
As far as I'm concerned any place that would treat someone smoking
Cannibis like a car thief or bank robber is guilty of a Human Rights abuse.
But you have to be discreet in a troglodyte society which hates and
fears without reason but with much clout.
The day of the cleanup I took my time, even using some of my extra water
to wash the dust off my car, out there on the Playa! That got me some
stares!
Time after time I waved goodby to car and bus loads of outbound people,
exchanging comments of 'See you next year' and gesturing appreciation for
it all.
As I finished my cleanup a last wonder appeared for me from the far
side if the valley.
A very tall thin swaying funnel cloud, made of dust, lazily danced
like a transluscent levitating rope. The edges appeared denser as the
hollow pipe of dust revealed its structure like an empty bone under X-rays.
The entire thin column drifted by, weakening as it approached. When I saw
its point of contact with the ground go by perhaps a hundred feet away it
had turned into a small but intense 'dust devil', swirling and gouging at a
yard wide zone at the base of the dimming vertical shaft of dust.
More rain gathered at the horizon as I finally left the Playa, after
hugging my goodbys to those with which I had shared these 8 days of
adventure.
Stopping at the same Reno Travellodge on the way back for a bath and
stable rest, I again met the individule from Boston with the rental truck I
had crossed paths with on the way in, and for a bit we exchanged tales of
wonderment at what we had just experienced.
Many people obviously came away from this event with changed lives.
What does Burning Man mean?
Is it a joyous cynicism about the religous and legal institutions of
society expressed in a hundred major efforts?
Is it a place to share the art and theme camps you create in a massive
interactive assembly of insane and beautiful art?
Is it the need to create the land-of-do-as-you-please that society so
hates and fears?
A place where you can take LSD if you wish with many other like minded
souls and go naked if you wish?
In a way it is all these and much more, it is a place where people
consciously create a community where people share thier inspirations, food,
and at times help each other in a hostile envirnment.
There is both individule self sufficency required and a sense of
creating a communal entity they live within and consiously maintain in
action and attitude. The needs of mass human interaction must be allowed
for as much as the needs of the individule. The tricky part is balancing
these dynamics towards maximising individule freedom.
The trappings of civilization and the many symbols of government and big
business which we grow up under are mere talismans waved by people wanting
our attention, obiedience, and money. They amount to no more than tools to
manipulate us to achieve a desired end.
In many cases these icons themselves simply appear in Black Rock City
as parodies within the context of various art pieces as portions of a
larger vision than the originators of these symbols try to push on us.
The gods on the corporate totem poles are taken down a few pegs and
laughed at.
The mallibility of the world we live in is manifested by our own
individule wills, not those of the society that tries to write thier
definitions from above.
It exists for us a lot more than we do for it.
Perhaps that is the real meaning of Burning Man, the power we always
have but are so often blinded to or deny ourselves being exercised to
create a world where the sum total of civilization and it's advanced
technology is used to bring a human experience into being which goes as far
as ingenuity can go just for the fun of it.
These days that is a good deal more than our aged sacred institutions
can dish out.
The vitality of the yearly blooming of Black Rock City changes the
lives of those involved in it, and marks the focus of the best progressive
creative forces in Western America. It and other expressive movements will
spread into the culture the realization of the power within us. This was
first hinted at during the early stages of the continuing shedding of
cultural shackles whose most visible transition period occured during the
late 1960s. It grows and mutates as inspired genius directs it and as
hungry souls adopt it.
Where it will lead can be judged as successful by the degree that it
increases rather than restricts the options available for human decency,
accomplishment, and happiness.
Don Davis
Studio City, California
September 12, 1998