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7 September 2010
Burning Man 2010
We survived, I think. It will take about a month to know for sure. The lungs and hands are the worse for wear. Stef has a cold. Mine is only moderate. In the past week, we have known extremes in temperatures: soaringly high by day; frigid at night. And the winds and dust storms were at times horrific – making it impossible to find our way and obscuring even parts of the Burn itself. And for the arrival, there was a huge rain storm, and though we were close to the entrance gate when it occurred, we then had to wait an additional three hours before traffic was allowed to proceed, and the ground had absorbed most of the moisture. Otherwise, it would have been little more than a mud bog. But the double rainbow that appeared and stretched over Black Rock City was breathtakingly beautiful and proclaimed the magic and glories that awaited us beyond the entry point.
There is no way truly to describe or convey the Burning Man experience. One can go through a complete range of emotions. Of course by the time we had got in, we had lost the light and finding a place for our camp was overwhelmingly challenging. Everything seemed full. The area where we had intended to set up was no longer possible, but I found an open space not too far back from it. We staked it out, and then some English people arrived to tell us that it was theirs, that someone had stolen their markers, and that they were expecting 200 people. Gary found us by that point, and though we could only initially guess we were being conned (other people later had similar stories perhaps from the same couple; and their claimed area was never settled), we decided to look further. Both of us were completely disheartened, wondering why we were there, vowing never to do this again, etc. But then a couple of blocks back, we found our space – an area that was 'meant' for us, and we had the most perfect neighbours: Tom and Courtney from Colorado – formerly a couple, now just good friends – on one side; Brigid (I'm guessing on the spelling), Craig the excellent cook and Shea the actor – all Universal Studios people from Los Angeles – on the other; and Tom (a sailor), David (San Diego) and Dennis across the street. It turned out to be ideal, and while Richard and I had to collapse after eating a frozen tamale for our first dinner, Gary went into overdrive, and when we woke in the morning, most of Camp Esperanza was miraculously all set up.
As Richard and I were virtually the eldest of anyone among the 50,000 plus who attended the event this year, we seemed to stand out against the perpetual backdrop of gorgeous young men and women. For many, we reminded them of their parents whom they could not conceive coming to such an undertaking as this. People had to tell us this – including Colorado Tom. They expressed amazement, we were hugged, talked to and even, when appropriate, ignored.
Some days were gloriously perfect; others were fiercely windy with maddeningly choking dust storms. But between my surgical face mask and a pair of goggles, I could cope well with the flying and sight-denying sand. We had arrived on Monday; by Wednesday our ladies arrived: the fabulous Stefanie from the Ridge and our eye-catching Rebecca from Costa Rica. Camp Esperanza was now complete, though our neighbours enjoyed our place so much, that one night none of us even had places to sit. So we all went out to the playa for the evening, and when we came back, the neighbours' party in our place was still underway.
Black Rock City is a temporary recreation of the 1960s counterculture days – ostensibly a paradigm community for how things could be and perhaps should be. The theme this year was 'metropolis'. Everything is brought and exchanged. The only things that one could purchase are coffee and tea at the Center Camp and ice at the Artica concessions. For the rest, it is a constant sharing of food, warmth and conversation against of background of perpetual drugs, booze and music. Haight-Ashbury lives again. Early mornings were often my favourite times. These were fresh, usually quiet as most were still sleeping or stirring only slowly, but everyone was friendly and in greeting mode. And breakfasts have never tasted so good. Afternoons we would visit various receptions, art installments, people, bars, the Man, the Temple, the always entertaining Center Camp, the pagoda Library, the Hookadrome, etc. One morning, because of the heat, we set out onto the open playa early to see the various works of art scattered here and there. I encountered a pyramid-like tent at one point in the middle of nowhere and, entering, found inside on a raised table a bowl of weed, a bhang and a lighter. This kind of gratuitous gifting is ubiquitous at Black Rock and expresses the casual delight of the gathering. Evenings, if not also the afternoons, were spent viewing marvelous creations, theme camps, art vehicles and just people in general as well as having margaritas, rum cocktails or whatever was on offer and dancing at countless venues – each unique and unlike the rest.
One morning we were able to find Marisa and Paul (Red and Prince Paul) at the Illumination Village where they were staying. They are the lovely couple we had met in Brooklyn when we went to a birthday party with Drew. Paul had been one of the builders of the Temple, and both expressed the definitive qualities of Burners that one cannot help but adore. The day before, Richard and I went to the academic gathering at the Ashram Galactica where I was able to encounter both Lee Gilmore and Sarah Pike, two more than special colleagues. There were others we tried to see but never could find. As no one ends up where they think they might, and everything is spontaneously setup, this is not at all surprising. Unfortunately, I only was able to read Paul Templeton's email after returning to the Ridge and discover that he was relatively close by Camp Esperanza. We also missed Peggy's daughter Zoe.
Some things we went to purposively such as the Gay Mad Hatters' Tea Party where we had Long Island tea or the Gender Bender tent; others were often by accident where we might have stopped initially to ask for directions – e.g., the Lollipop Brigade which was having its 'reception' for all the 'marriages' they had conducted earlier in the week. And during breakfast one morning at the 'You Are Not the Boss of Me' Camp (Gary's friend Dan and Moses, both past Ridgers), we met Duncan and Ben, a most attractive and enjoyable couple.
Richard and I had good seats for the burning of the Man on the Saturday night. The sands whipped up so that Stef and Gary wisely decided not to attend. But there were intermittent durations of clarity, and our Ranger declared out loud to himself, "My God, it is starting on time!" Rangers are like sacrificial priests. Their duty is to protect us. Consequently, they face away from the centre where everything is happening and toward the crowd. They are unable to watch what we were seeing – a most admirable sacrifice. First we were treated to magical performances from the Fire Dancers Conclave during which the Man's arms raise in triumph over the proceedings and the culmination of his Burning Man tribe's achievement in his honour. And while he exalts over all, an endless display of fireworks erupts around him which the sandstorm only hid from sight at times, and his platform is set alight, and the Man burns and finally falls to the ground. Everyone then rushes forward. This is a peak moment for Black Rock City. We have done the Burn.
But that is not all. There is still the Temple. This is burned the following night (Sunday) as the entire occasion comes to a close. Earlier I had placed a photo of my Uncle Ralph inside. Visiting the Temple during the day was always a moving undertaking. One becomes aware of how many have been touched by grief and loss, and this is the venue for honouring one's loved ones that have proceeded. Many would be meditating. There might be low-key music, some dancing. Pictures of the departed, memorials, inscriptions, poems and words of love were placed everywhere on the magnificent structure. Earlier on Sunday was a temple drumming session. It proved to be the perennial mating game, and I saw it as an honouring of the ancestors: life goes on. For the burning of the Temple itself, the crowd is by-and-large subdued and somber. There were moments of complete silence as everyone was mesmerized by the conflagration. Due to the drugs and alcohol, however, there is the occasional raucous outburst, but these are swallowed up by the greater silence reminiscent of Aldous Huxley's description of the isolated insignificance of the lone rock-'n-roll radio station blasting from an auto that has driven into the great expanse of the night desert. When we were allowed to enter the area of the fire itself and were struggling to get back on to our feet, the couple crunched next to us helped us up and then asked, "How long have you two been together?"
After the Temple burn, we returned to camp and said our final goodbyes to our neighbours before driving our trailer to near the 6 o'clock exit of Black Rock City where we slept until 04:00, then woke and drove out and back to the Ridge and Gary, Stef and Rebecca. We managed this time to exit in 45 minutes rather than the 8 hours it took us in 2006. But none of this could we have done without the meticulous craftsmanship of Gary including kitchen, living room and shower and the highly efficient organization of Stef concerning food and provisions. Not only are these two people among my favourites of all, both attractive and beautiful and perpetual fun, but they make these more extreme and unusual experiences possible not only for themselves but for the likes of Richard and me. Our gratitude can never be fully expressed.
And it is San Francisco for us next.
Michael