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Burning Man 2006
It was only two months in the desert...
Ah, Burning Man, that mythical mirage of a city that springs up
out of a prehistoric lake bed one week a year, when it seems as though
a third of San Francisco empties out into Nevada's Black Rock Desert,
when it's said you can't get any computer code written and when freaks
and freedom seekers of every stripe converge and conspire to create
their temporary Utopian vision.
This was my fifth year and since last year's was my best burn ever
ever, I wanted to do something that would make this year, if not
better, then at least different. So I volunteered for DPW, Burning
Man's own Department of Public Works. I went out to the playa on August
14 and I'm still here, September 25, assisting in "playa restoration"
with about 40 other workers, cleaning up after the near 40,000
participants. We've been doing "line sweeps," which is what it sounds
like: 30 of us line up and walk like zombies, picking up ever stray
wood chip, fragment of broken glass, bobby pin and blinkie battery. The
entire experience has been -- and continues to be -- utterly
transformational, in a way attending the festival itself often is for
people. At this point I can't even describe it... that may come at a
later date. So I'll just give you a wrap-up of the event in general. Or
at least what little of it I saw.
This year's theme was Hope and Fear: The Future, and the centerpiece of
the city, the "Man," was mounted on an Art Deco base equipped to move
the Man up or down, depending on how the city's population was voting,
for hope or for fear. I have no idea if the mechanism ever worked
because, for whatever reason, I rarely even glanced at the Man. My
focus was on the people, as it usually is. But back to the art, since
it IS an arts festival. The Flower, last year's gorgeous creation
wrapped around an enormous cherry picker, was joined by a Venus
Flytrap, I suppose to represent Fear, if indeed the flower represented
Hope. The two toured the open playa, bending to the earth and reaching
to the stars.
The Temple of Hope was a team effort between the usual Temple crew and
volunteers from Burners Without Borders, a few dozen burners who'd been
in Biloxi and Pearlington, Mississippi helping to rebuild after
Hurricane Katrina. Instead of a single intricate, looming structure,
there were smaller, scattered spire-like pieces. It offered a haven for
contemplation, mourning and remembrance. The most visible piece of art
was definitely The Belgian Waffle, or, more accurately, Message From
the Future. People just started calling it The Waffle, much to the
consternation of the creators. And we decided that the punch line to
every joke during the event would be "40 Belgiums!" A team of Belgians
arrived prior to the beginning of the event equipped with their own
heavy machinery, 90 miles of wood and everything else they'd need to be
"radically self sufficient." The end result was a monstrous piece of
free-form construction, what appeared to be controlled chaos, that
became a thumping disco every night. The one time I ventured into it I
found it a bit overwhelming. It was too close to being in Manhattan for
me but the participants enjoyed it.
Another huge piece of art was The Conexus Cathedral. I actually saw the
scale model in the Burning Man offices way back in April, so I knew
what to expect: imagine Notre Dame without walls. It was a skeletal
structure that was not only imposing but stunning. I attended a wedding
there one afternoon and couldn't think of a more sacred space to
exchange vows.
Karen Cuosolito and Dan Das Mann outdid themselves by following last
year's Mother and Child, who walked in flaming footsteps, with three
figures bowing in the direction of the rising sun. The pieces were
placed in Center Camp, the city's main gathering place. And did I
mention that they are about 100 feet high and made of cast-off car
parts and other metal scraps? I also enjoyed The Big Round Cubatron, a
rainbow blinkie installation, and the Field of Sunflower Robots. The
Flaming Lotus Girls did another amazing job of creating a gathering
place with their Serpent Mother, a spiraling metal monster with an
articulated head. There was a LOT of fire involved in this piece and
standing beneath its gaping jaws, watching as the razor sharp
practically grazed peoples' dreadlocks, was awe inspiring.
The high point of the week for me was the DPW Parade. I'd never even
really noticed the DPW at all in previous years, frankly, apart from
their deconstructed cars and surly tendencies, and had never witnessed
their parade, either. It's a piratic spectacle of heavy machinery and
pillaging drunkards. Participating was, of course, far preferable to
just watching it roll by, so I'm thrilled to say that my first
experience of the ridiculous rowdiness was being on one of the
vehicles. The Mad Max-like welded "art cars" and other contraptions
were led by an incredible steam engine train created by Kinetic Steam
Works and we snaked from the DPW Depot through the streets of the city.
It was theatrical debauchery at its absolute finest.
I had some serious fun at a few of the theme camps, too. There was a
birthday party (aptly called Fuck Yer Birthday) at Jub Jub. They also
had the sexiest burn barrel -- or burn sculpture: a four-sided piece
with women's figures in garters, stockings and such, by Bean, a fellow
DPWer. I hung out in something I thought was called the Flame Garden,
run, I thought, by the Thunderdome people, the Death Guild. Someone was
doing a documentary on them for Spike TV and we were dancing to silly
'80s tunes, which was VERY non-Death Guild. From there I meandered over
to the Black Sabbath Pancake Breakfast, where I proceeded to get drunk,
pass out and piss myself. AND get Sharpied. I'm sure the photos
resulting from that afternoon will surface sometime soon, so stay
tuned.
Anyway, enough about my alcoholic antics. I'm sure you're most
interested to hear about the sex at the event. Hmm, I suppose there's
no need to say that when you get almost 40,000 people together in an
atmosphere of unbridled human exuberance, there's gonna be plenty of
excitement. And with camps like Temple of Atonement (a BDSM camp) and
Jiffy Lube (a gay male sex-themed camp) you know people are gettin'
busy. But at this point it's become cliché to talk about Burning
Man sex. It's been parodied on Malcolm in the Middle, ridiculed online
and mentioned in the online Vows section of The New York Times. Okay,
that was romance rather than randiness, but you get the picture. It's
just totally mainstream now, man. I will say that the pheremone soup
I've been swimming in for the past month has had all sorts of strange
effects on my psyche and my sex drive. But again, that's a separate
story!
I hate to sound like I've had too much Kool-Aid but in actuality I've
pretty much sucked down an entire Igloo's worth, so I'm not just an
enthusiastic particpant, I'm a full-on missionary -- literally, since
I'm also a real live Burning Man Regional Representative, a sort of
ambassador for the organization that puts the whole operation together.
Which makes it impossible for me to have a properly unbiased
journalistic perspective on the event. But if what you're looking for
is an opposing viewpoint, you can read the hilarious rant by Patrick
Mulroy, HYPERLINK "http://blog.hisnameistimmy.com/?p=12"Achtung
Hippie!: Reflections on the Burning Man Scam. He attended the event
this year and didn't enjoy one second of it, a feat that could only
have been accomplished by the world's biggest curmudgeon -- or perhaps
the world's most un-layable guy. It's worth reading, seriously, and
probably will describe the whole shebang much more accurately than I'm
able to.
This was supposed to be a review of the event and I'm not too sure I've
given you much of a complete picture. But it was my experience of it.
Or at least a slice!
[Written Sept. 2006]
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