Inside Burning Man: One Attendee's Perspective
A lot of people ask about Burning Man. "Was it fun? What was it like? What did you do?" One could respond with tired, pithy retorts, and it's tempting to, but repeating the same favorite anecdotes and showing pictures doesn't do the event justice. There's a lot that can be said about Burning Man; some of it's said too much, and some isn't said nearly enough.
You'll commonly hear two general versions about what goes on at Burning Man - a noble, egalitarian one the organizers propagate, and an often contrary, flip one from some media. If you're interested in or familiar with the event, you've read or seen both of these extremes somewhere or other. Maybe newsletters or e-mails from the festival organizers, stories about Burning Man on your television, or, say, the Burning Man web site.
None of these accounts may be fully correct. Burning Man has not become the wholly expressive, participatory, nurturing community its organizers have worked hard to create. But nor is it completely the drug-infested, sybaritic Bacchanalia others say it is. (And whatever it is, it will not be the same thing next year.) Like many things in life, it's complex.
Here's one take at trying to describe its complexity.
The vitals
At its most basic level, Burning Man is a week-long camp out with thousands of other people. In recent years, this "camping" has been in the middle of remote desert in northern Nevada. Organizers map formal roads, around which participants erect tents, art installations, thematic areas and other structures. The city is socially and geographically organized around a 40-foot stylized effigy of a human figure, commonly referred to as the "man"; recently the 23,000-person city has been mapped as a semicircle around the man.
The event is nothing like a large music concert. While many bands can be found performing around Burning Man, outrageous sculpture and performance art play equally large - if not more important - roles. So while the annual opera at Burning Man and this year's rock musical were well-attended, attendees were just as likely to gather at the base of an immense Tesla coil, watch nightly fire-dancing and drumming or attend an all-night rave. The Burning Man experience is a 24-hour one, which means earplugs if you're to sleep when you finally choose to.
Destruction is more than just an art theme at Burning Man. It's part of the essence of the event. On one of the last nights, as attendees gather around in a circle, organizers set fire to the 40-foot "man" and practically everything else burnable around it. Afterward, many artists set fire to their own sculptures as crowds gather to watch and sometimes dance and make music around the fires.
While they provide portable toilets, organizers offer nothing in the way of food, water or shelter. Attendees must bring everything necessary for their survival in the desert. Many go above and beyond bare necessities, however, bringing objects to adorn their areas or whole trailers full of materials with which to construct theme camps - areas created to entertain or engage visitors, who are openly invited. There are hundreds of theme camps at Burning Man.
Vehicles are rigorously controlled. Cars are only allowed in certain areas. Modified "art cars" are inspected and issued permits. There is a department of public works, a department of vehicles and a citizens' police force. There's also an obvious but unobtrusive presence by uniformed local police.
Commerce is largely prohibited. Organizers sell coffee, ice and a handful of other items in a central area, but otherwise no participant is allowed to sell products or services. Items and services are given away freely or bartered (a bicycle courier service delivers messages anywhere in the city for free; another group runs a computerized matchmaking service for attendees.) Corporate logos are eschewed, and organizers suggest even covering or altering rental truck logos. While hard to believe, some spend lavishly on items to give away at Burning Man: an ice cream truck disperses thousands of ice cream treats to participants over the week. Another group decorates the interior of a refrigerated tractor trailer and brings enough gas to keep it running all week to cool hot, tired attendees. At least two lavish bars, each seating dozens, roam the desert on wheels, dispensing cheap beer to anyone who climbs aboard.
A large percentage of Burning Man attendees wander about costumed or semi-clad. Costumes can be elaborate and creative. Many men and women adorn their bodies with paints, temporary tattoos or other art, and some shed their inhibitions and spend the week naked. Some even assume new, whimsical names for the event.
There is much about Burning Man that is rational, planned and measured. But there's a frenetic aspect to the event... to the art, dance and even between people struggling to make connections with each other. There's an energy and excitement in this dry, dusty place. It's hard to not want to see and do everything at all hours of the day and night.
A community?
Organizers claim Burning Man is an experiment in community, and on many levels it is. A more organic gathering at its beginnings in 1986, guidelines and rules now influence what participants can and cannot do. As one example, vehicles are kept out of high traffic areas after a car ran over and killed an attendee several years ago. Organizers point out the event now draws 20,000+ people, and more guidelines are necessary to protect safety, but not all attendees are pleased that rules have been instituted; some, originally lured by the event's post-apocalyptic aesthetic, came to expect anarchy was an element of the Burning Man experience.
Is Burning Man a community? Undeniably. But only some attendees recognize this and actively work to preserve and grow the event's positive elements. But to many attendees, Burning Man is no more a community they feel the need to be involved with than summer camp. Many perceive Burning Man as an experience that is created for them, an experience they have little effect in shaping. Or even want little effect in shaping.
Is it an experiment in creating a new utopia over today's government? No. (A government is not elected. Burning Man is not a democracy - it's run by a not-for-profit corporation.) The event is an autocracy, and that's perfectly fine for the majority of people who go.
Radical self-expression
Burning Man bills itself as an event encouraging "radical self-expression." The city essentially becomes a large performance venue for a week, where artists and performers of all denominations are encouraged to exhibit or set up stage ... so long as they don't negatively impact others' safety or enjoyment of the event. Innovative, fringe art is encouraged.
Some of this self-expression is exceptional. All kinds of great moving sculptures amble around the desert, such as a 25 foot tall mobile white lighthouse, complete with rotating beacon, on top of a car. Or a mobile living room with furniture and working TV. Bands build giant industrial scaffold stages and elaborate lighting rigs. Open mic stages feature poetry, storytellers and circus-style performers. People wear costumes that take months to make (one outstanding one involved a wire harness and LED body mesh with blinking lights that simulate the growth and decay of single-organism societies.)
Art on this scale is the exception and not the norm, however. As can be expected when an event like this reaches the size it has, not all Burning Man attendees today are artistically inclined or willing to assume the role of performer. While one of the historical maxims of the event is "no spectators", unfortunately a good percentage of today's Burning Man attendees are just that.
Many of today's attendees may only arrive for the last few days of the event, and many treat it as simply a large party (well, okay - it IS a large party!) While some of these attendees assume costumes or go without clothes, they may lack creativity or be guilty of opportunism, merely taking advantage of Burning Man as an excuse to wear an unusual getup or a fetish costume. Or as an opportunity to go naked ... or to leer at those who do. The crowd assumes a different dynamic when the weekenders arrive, and starts to feel like a frat party.
As "expressive" as Burning Man can be, radical self expression becomes less engaging when done badly. Many attendees confuse "more" with "better" when adorning their bodies, for instance, using all manners of paint, temporary tattoos, baubles, feathers and fabrics with little regard to aesthetics. Some end up hard to look at. Moreover, self-expression becomes less radical the more people who do the same thing. Those who walk about in bondage leather, for instance, become remarkably less radical as everyone walks around in bondage leather. Likewise, those who walk around in fairy costumes with little gossamer wings look decidedly less cute after the first 40.
There's a lot of good art going on at Burning Man, but there's also a lot of bad.
Does anyone know what's really going on?
While everyone seems to enjoy the burn ritual that marks the highlight of Burning Man, surprisingly few seem to understand why the effigy is burned, articulate why it appeals to them, or even why they make their pilgrimage to northern Nevada in the first place.
There's no question that the burn itself is sensual and engaging. Pyrotechnics and flammable materials are embedded in the structure, so as the man burns, it burns hard. Sparks and explosions fill the sky. And to many attendees, that's what Burning Man is all about: watching and hearing something big burn and explode right in front of you, and feeling the heat of the big fire on your face.
But what about the burn-as-completion-of-the-cycle-of-creation-and-destruction, the duality-of-creator-and-destroyer within us? Fire as the "great leveler"? The burn-as-purification-and-cleansing? There may be a visceral understanding of these dialectics and respect for the physical and emotional energy of the burn, but there's not a lot of evidence many attendees "get it" on intellectual levels. Most just seem happy to be there. (On the other hand, some say there's nothing wrong with not being able to intellectualize our enjoyment of such things. We humans get to enjoy other visceral experiences, like feeding and sex, without needing to understand why we like them.)
Of course, there could be reasons for the blank stares and glazed expressions. A group that collects statistics at Burning Man shows the biggest spike in the attendance bell curve between 25 and 30 years old - a young group on average. And substance abuse plays a factor. This year, medical teams had to contend with an upswing in LSD and ecstasy overdoses.
Environmental impact
Burning Man has more than its share of maxims, and a popular one encourages attendees to pack out whatever they pack in: "leave no trace". An inordinate emphasis is put on this issue. Past events have taken months for crews to clean up, as many attendees manage their trash irresponsibly.
Irresponsible trash management goes far beyond people leaving a few garbage bags of litter behind for crews to haul to dumpsters for them. Some leave their bottles or cans far out in the desert away from camp, leave their firework remains where they launched them and strew piñata stuffing blowing in the wind. It's not uncommon to find used condoms and female hygiene products left around the desert. In terms of lasting damage, the ad-hoc fires started by attendees create giant plugs of glass: scorched sand turned solid by the heat of fire. These plugs, often many meters wide, have to be dug up by cleaning crews, hauled away, and the holes filled in with earth.
For all the emphasis on "leaving no trace" and the positive track record Burning Man organizers tout, this is an event that creates a huge amount of refuse and leaves lasting scars on the desert floor. An unfortunate contradiction, given the environmental responsibility practiced by many of the artists who attend the event and dispose of their works carefully. But again, as the event continues to grow and attract less responsible attendees, more transgressions like these are going to happen.
Demon-worship
For all the dark imagery, sexuality and general revelry at Burning Man, there do not appear to be Satanic/Mythric overtones, let alone any significant organized, formal worship of gods or forces. Any religious component at the event, irrespective of who or what might be being worshipped, seems minimal.
Yes, some people wear dark costumes. Yes, the fantastic and the macabre are omnipresent. Yes, there are rituals, like the nightly lighting of the lamps by a costumed procession of lamplighters through the city, and various parades and processions (some, yes, at night.) And yes, sexuality is undeniable and inescapable. But all of these components do not constitute "devil worship" or cult manipulation: most attendees are happily celebrating the human spirit and its relationship to the world (even though they may not be able to articulate it...)
Is the type of revelry that goes on at Burning Man synonymous with "sin" in the eyes of some of the world's religions? Yes. But the word "sin" may or may not have much significance for the average Burning Man attendee.
Alone time
As social an event as this, it might seem difficult to escape the 23,000 others you're with, there in the middle of nowhere. You can't easily hop in a car and drive: not only is car travel within the city restricted, trips to the nearest highway and civilization are discouraged - and penalized by organizers.
For all the people, it's still possible to be alone. There's magic to riding a bicycle out from the city into the complete nothingness by day, through the thick, dry heat. Across the same perfectly flat desert floor where land speed records are set. Or riding at night, with everything in the world completely dark save half the horizon lit by floodlights, candles, lasers, and neon. You become most aware of the scale of this humanity when you remove yourself from it, and stand alone in the dark at the center of the city's semicircle and see and hear the throb in the distance. After a time, you start to realize you may not be sure how to get back to your camp.
You learn quickly what it's like to walk across the black desert at night without seeing your feet. It's a lot easier to urinate out there than stand at line for the portable toilets, so everyone does. And responsible urinators of course wiggle as they go, so as not to bore holes into the desert floor...
Epilogue
Burning Man is an alternate universe where any manner of things are very different from the world most of us spend our time in. It's not a perfect place, and it wouldn't be a very desirable experience for a lot of people. It's surreal, and larger than life these days. But for all its shortcomings and foibles, it's still a strikingly original phenomenon and a place where enough positives are still happening to outweigh the negatives.
Dallas Kachan is a musician, geek, type-A personality and ongoing Burning Man attendee. He, like many who travel to Burning Man, lives in the glorious, vibrant but morally bankrupt city of San Francisco. Visit him on the web at http://www.11010011.com/dzk