When a number of people who I respect get enthusiastic about something, I make a point of investigating. I decided it was time to check out Burning Man, a week long gathering on a stark desert playa in Nevada.
I’m going to try to resist overly defining Burning Man at this stage. The event is so unique that the discovery of its culture and nuances is an adventure and revelation; so much so that folks new to the experience are referred to as “Burning Man Virgins.” They are people who have yet to discover something unparalleled in their previous experience.
I was such a virgin and resolved to immerse myself in the experience without expectation of what I might find. Expectation is a form of preconception; it excludes us from new perceptions by applying old ideas in an attempt to familiarize the unknown. One of Burning Man’s ten defining principles is “Immediacy.” Creativity and discovery take place in the only time that is truly real, the moment, the NOW.
Still, when I arrived on the Black Rock Desert on Tuesday night, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Heavy winds whipped up clouds of fine playa dust and visibility was extremely low. The Burning Man encampment resembled a post-apocalyptic refuge camp. At length I found the camp of my Yosemite friends and battened down my hatches. Folks were walking around as if the conditions weren’t radically inhospitable. What was this?
The wind abated and I walked down the Esplanade that formed the “boardwalk” between the city encampment and the flat vastness of the playa space that it encloses in a semi-circle. While I heard a lot of great music (you must like techno), saw many beautiful people, and witnessed notable spectacles of dynamic Art, I found myself asking the question, “Is this just the Las Vegas Strip translated into counter-culture?” What’s the difference?
But I resolved to discover the difference. At a minimum, this promised to be entertaining.
Another of the Burning Man principles is “Participation.” The Burning Man organization does not book acts or provide attractions. At most they fund promising art projects that participants propose, and they provide the framework for the art, music and activities of those who attend. How would I participate? What is my art?
I am a photographer. That’s my art. It promised a way for me to participate in the art of Burning Man in my own way. But there was a rub. Photography has a way of making folks self-conscious in a way that other art doesn’t. The “Radical Self Expression” that forms another Burning Man defining principle can be fragile and wilt in the face of self-consciousness. You can’t express yourself if you can’t be yourself.
I also brought a pile of didgeridoos for my friends to buzz on.
The next day, I registered with the Media Mecca representatives that try to help photographers and journalists interface with the event while at the same time resolving to keep my camera put away until I was sure I knew how to use it without dampening anyone else’s experience. I explored Burning Man for a day without taking my camera. I did a workshop, visited with my friends in their theme camp, and danced my butt off like I meant it.
I slept in my camper and woke up for dawn. Surely the inanimate art in the morning light wouldn’t object to being photographed. As a landscape photographer, the art on the blank canvas of the open playa was a natural environment for me. As the sun rose I ventured from one art experience to another on my bike until I reached the far reaches of the event where a temporary fence defines the border and catches trash, “Matter-out-of-Place (M.o.o.p.)” that gets taken up by the wind.
I found myself at a gathering that was just concluding at sunrise. Radiant people were serenely beaming Love and Appreciation amongst each other. I felt a palpable atmosphere of Peace and Presence.
Music resonant with the scene emanated from a gynormous vehicle parked nearby. It was a bus converted impressively into a towering dragon capable of carrying dozens of people. It’s crew were impeccably dressed in elaborate samurai costume and managed to comport themselves with the graceful stature befitting the role. I had to meet this tribe.
I approached Richard, who was driving, and appreciated the fruits of their creativity. He, in turn, acknowledged the contributions of David, a key organizer, Bobcat, who worked costume wonders, and Michael. In fact, whomever I managed to meet was always in awe and appreciation of the contribution of somebody else on their team.
This was the beginning of one of my first big lessons in the Burning Man difference: This was a culture that stature and motivation emerged from how much a person could give, from how much they were contributing. The outside world’s culture teaches us to compete, accumulate and eventually exploit. At Burning Man, people were always looking for a way to help and collaborate. I could see that as this cultural difference begins to sink in, our relationship with our community changes radically.
Besides the sales of ice and coffee to benefit local causes, there is no commerce allowed at Burning Man. People are radically self-reliant (defining principle) and yet share their art and resources in a unique economy of simply giving: (another defining principle).
The vehicle, Abraxas the Dragamuffin moved on to an art installation when more techno music was blazing. I followed them and we danced as if the party was still heating up. Disregard for sleep deprivation, what time it is, and fatigue aren’t defining Burning Man Principles but sometimes it seems so. Burning Man never, ever, never, ever, stops.
Eventually I went to attend an Art tour that the Media Mecca folks had organized for the press. They would take us to a sampling of the significant installations of Art on the playa via one of the many art cars, “Mutant Vehicles,” that had been radically converted to float across the desert as dynamic apparitions, reflecting some participant’s passionate vision.
Out of the myriad of possibilities, it was the Dragamuffin that arrived at Media Mecca to escort the journalists to the Artists. This synchronicity reinforced what I already felt, that I needed to know this clan. In fact, synchronicity is practically an ecological principle at Burning Man. Our experience reflects the totality of what we bring to it. A wise man once said. “The world is made of rings. The hooks are all yours.”
I had been at Burning Man long enough to realize that there were many worlds of Burning Man. Burning Man is an alternative culture. Culture is a vast and unfathomable phenomenon. I studied South Asian Culture at Berkeley and found out through living in India for a year that understanding a culture is far beyond categorizing its characteristics. Burning Man is no different. Whether we’re talking about our everyday life or Burning Man, my experience is that we don’t really understand the culture we are in, we just learn to conform to its expectations and find our place in its rubric. In everyday life, folks who don’t conform to the unwritten (and written) dictates of culture are eschewed from society.
This brings me to another Burning Man defining principle: Radical Inclusion. Burning Man proclaims an environment of tolerance and willingness to allow free expression. In fact, I think it would be accurate to define Burning Man as a framework for expression.
What do we need to express? Certainly our inspiration and our dreams, but also what we have had to repress. The allowance of expressions that are culturally suppressed elsewhere can be liberating. This also gives Burning Man its sometimes-lurid reputation. You can walk around naked at Burning Man if you like, and people sometimes do. For visitors from regular culture, this might seems shocking. For a veteran burner, public nudity loses its forbidden charge and life goes on. In fact between fantastic costumes and the lack of them, Burning Man often resembles the bar scene on another planet from a science fiction movie. Bizarre beings from different planets hang out together and enjoy themselves as if there were no differences between them.
It was apparent from meeting the artists at a variety of art installations out on the playa that stereotypes of Burners and Burning Man are fatally limited. Often the creator of a 50,000 pound structure of steel might be a serious engineer or software designer in ordinary life. This art was their expression and reflected many of their unique talents. Much of the art required genius of engineering and technology as well as creativity. Everything had to be erected out the remote desert on short order and packed up quickly after Burning Man was finished. Richard told me it took a whole day just to convert Abraxas into a form where it could travel the highways and a whole day to put her back together for the Playa.
I photographed a number of Mutant Vehicles and left my card with the drivers so I could share my images with them. Most seemed very pleased that their art was appreciated and happy that they could get photos of their project. I was pleased to find a creative niche where my skills not only expressed myself but contributed to the other contributors. Perhaps I had found a role for myself with the Abrasas crew in capturing some of their art while they labored at sharing it with everyone.
Still, after parting with the Dragon after the tour, I didn’t see them again for a few days. I was off with the special community of Yosemite friends I was camped with. We went off in a pack to dance to some favorite bands, BLVD and Hamsa Lila.
Hamsa Lila finished their set at Dawn. It was an unthinkable stretch of a night for me anywhere but Burning Man. Dawn at Burning Man seemed to offer a bliss and serenity that accompanied vision quest levels of fatigue. It was time to sweat in an attempt at sleep in my camper. I planned to take it easy on Friday since Saturday, when we burn the man, is a big night. Despite my best attempts at a mellow night, Friday night turned into another night of epic dance and I returned to my camper at 4 am.
The next day presented a problem. For many people, the central focal event of Burning Man is the burning the elaborate effigy of Black Rock City’s central landmark, the Man himself. For a photographer, it’s hard not to think of capturing the man’s immolation as “the money shot.” The problem is that by this time, there were almost 40, 000 people prepared to surround the Man. To get a relatively clear shot, many photographers arrive 3 hours in advance and camp out to reserve their spot.
I just decided that this represented too much striving for me to accept. I bicycled out to the Temple of Hope for sunset instead of parking myself at the Man. The Temple of Hope was a place of deep inspiration where the many burners had their hearts repeatedly melted. Blocks of wood and markers were available all around the temple. Participants would write their hopes, and often their pain, on the wood blocks and leave them in the temple to be consumed in the burning of the temple Sunday night. It was a new expression of an ancient ritual, using fire to bridge the dimension between this World and the timeless Universe. It was pointless to resist the tears as I read the expressions of forgiveness among family members, pain of lost loves and lives, and hopeful prayers for humanity. By another synchronicity, I connected with a wonderful person whom I had noticed among the 39,000 the previous night. After a moment of sacred space, I mounted my bike to continue my adventure only to witness the re-emergence of Abraxas.
I felt honored and blessed when I was allowed on board. In a city of 39,000, even the large Dragon had limited space and in my mind, there was no place I’d rather be for the big night when the Man is burned. I knew there would be something special about many of those who shared the night onboard. I don’t remember another night of meeting so many interesting and kindred spirits with whom mere eye contact ignited a heightened awareness of the presence of Being that we all have in common.
The Dragamuffin was also the ideal platform for photographing the Man! My photography goal had just been redeemed by a synchronicity without having to seek it through sacrificing my experience of the moment. Life is good and we all knew it. I had an ear to ear smile that wouldn’t go away.
The Man went up in smoke, I took pictures, and the Dragon flew amongst dance venues about the playa all night until finally the sun dawned unto a gathering of ourselves with the vast desert at our feet. We celebrated each other and the culmination of a vision that brought an amazing group of people together to create something remarkable to share with the Burning Man community. I felt really lucky to be there to witness it.
I found my way back to camp eventually and made another halfhearted attempt at really resting. It was always a pleasure to reconnect with the Yosemite crew.
One more synchronicity and I found myself visiting the Solaris section of Otter camp…the Dragon’s lair. I arrived just as the beast was heading out for the evening. I hopped on and I was back into the magic.
We positioned ourselves to witness the Temple burning. Unlike the Man, who goes down with a lot of noise and fireworks, the Temple is burned in silence. It might be the first silence in many days at Burning Man. The immolation of the Temple, with its written prayers, dreams, and pains, felt like a truly sacred moment deeply enhanced by the collective presence of those around me. The awareness of thousands of people focused at one time on the same thing is a truly powerful phenomenon. I’d like to thank those whom I shared it with.
It seems that it takes a setback to put us on the path we need to walk but wouldn’t ordinarily take. The Dragamuffin apparently had digestive problems and many of us needed to go our own way to allow the vessel to move on. For me it was an opportunity to walk across the desert alone at night, with a beautiful view of the distant burning Belgian Ukronia struture. Still inspired from the temple burning, I had the opportunity to take stock of my life and offer my love and gratitude to the source of all life, to all those who are connected to me, and in fact, to the world as a whole. It was an ineffable moment and I owe it to engine trouble.
There was a great party happening when I washed up on the shores of the Esplanade. My favorite band, Hamsa Lila, was playing again and eventually the tribe from the Dragon rolled in. In a city of 40,000 I gravitated towards my people, and I suspect many others found themselves in their own niche as well.
The next day I endured an epic traffic jam known as the “Exodus” when crowds leave Burning Man by funneling into a single lane of highway. It took me six hours to reach the highway from my camp! At Burning Man, you have to accept the bitter with the sweet. The heat, the dust, the exodus and the eternal search for a porta-potty: they are like all pains in life. Our resistance to the pain is worse than the pain itself. Accept your experience and you free yourself from most suffering. The exodus was my final exam for this lesson!
In my everyday culture, this would be the part of my writing where I draw conclusions and define my experience. The wisdom that kept suggesting itself to me throughout my time at Burning Man was to resist defining it, but rather immerse myself in the experience and share those moments with my community. I took something away with me that has nourished me and made me a better person, but I can’t explain it; and if I could, I’d be speaking for myself alone.
Photographing the mutant vehicles taught me that each camp and vehicle was it’s own sub-culture with it’s own traditions and expressions. Burning Man is the framework when everybody gets to act freely and in turn appreciate a bold diversity of other’s expressions. Of course the framework itself conditions the culture of Burning Man and reflects the founders who created it. The Republican party doesn’t maintain a theme camp at Burning Man even though the values of self-reliance, civic responsibility, sustainable financing, and less government seem more truly conservative than the policies of our present administration. That doesn’t mean that the principles of Burning Man couldn’t inspire very different events than those found on the Playa.
The Theme for Burning Man this year was Hope and Fear, the Future. I suspected that as oil depletion, an unsustainable economy and global warming threaten to disturb our safe and comfortable existence; the theme was a suggestion to both express and discuss the issues of our time and our lives as we face them together. That happened a bit in camps during lulls in the celebration and in the art itself. At Burning Man, I saw a wide diversity of people working hard to serve each other without prospect of monetary gain. The harder a future we face, the more we are going to need that kind of community.
I hope you all find inspiration, creativity, peace and love
Karl ‘Baba’ Bralich
I’m going to try to resist overly defining Burning Man at this stage. The event is so unique that the discovery of its culture and nuances is an adventure and revelation; so much so that folks new to the experience are referred to as “Burning Man Virgins.” They are people who have yet to discover something unparalleled in their previous experience.
I was such a virgin and resolved to immerse myself in the experience without expectation of what I might find. Expectation is a form of preconception; it excludes us from new perceptions by applying old ideas in an attempt to familiarize the unknown. One of Burning Man’s ten defining principles is “Immediacy.” Creativity and discovery take place in the only time that is truly real, the moment, the NOW.
Still, when I arrived on the Black Rock Desert on Tuesday night, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Heavy winds whipped up clouds of fine playa dust and visibility was extremely low. The Burning Man encampment resembled a post-apocalyptic refuge camp. At length I found the camp of my Yosemite friends and battened down my hatches. Folks were walking around as if the conditions weren’t radically inhospitable. What was this?
The wind abated and I walked down the Esplanade that formed the “boardwalk” between the city encampment and the flat vastness of the playa space that it encloses in a semi-circle. While I heard a lot of great music (you must like techno), saw many beautiful people, and witnessed notable spectacles of dynamic Art, I found myself asking the question, “Is this just the Las Vegas Strip translated into counter-culture?” What’s the difference?
But I resolved to discover the difference. At a minimum, this promised to be entertaining.
Another of the Burning Man principles is “Participation.” The Burning Man organization does not book acts or provide attractions. At most they fund promising art projects that participants propose, and they provide the framework for the art, music and activities of those who attend. How would I participate? What is my art?
I am a photographer. That’s my art. It promised a way for me to participate in the art of Burning Man in my own way. But there was a rub. Photography has a way of making folks self-conscious in a way that other art doesn’t. The “Radical Self Expression” that forms another Burning Man defining principle can be fragile and wilt in the face of self-consciousness. You can’t express yourself if you can’t be yourself.
I also brought a pile of didgeridoos for my friends to buzz on.
The next day, I registered with the Media Mecca representatives that try to help photographers and journalists interface with the event while at the same time resolving to keep my camera put away until I was sure I knew how to use it without dampening anyone else’s experience. I explored Burning Man for a day without taking my camera. I did a workshop, visited with my friends in their theme camp, and danced my butt off like I meant it.
I slept in my camper and woke up for dawn. Surely the inanimate art in the morning light wouldn’t object to being photographed. As a landscape photographer, the art on the blank canvas of the open playa was a natural environment for me. As the sun rose I ventured from one art experience to another on my bike until I reached the far reaches of the event where a temporary fence defines the border and catches trash, “Matter-out-of-Place (M.o.o.p.)” that gets taken up by the wind.
I found myself at a gathering that was just concluding at sunrise. Radiant people were serenely beaming Love and Appreciation amongst each other. I felt a palpable atmosphere of Peace and Presence.
Music resonant with the scene emanated from a gynormous vehicle parked nearby. It was a bus converted impressively into a towering dragon capable of carrying dozens of people. It’s crew were impeccably dressed in elaborate samurai costume and managed to comport themselves with the graceful stature befitting the role. I had to meet this tribe.
I approached Richard, who was driving, and appreciated the fruits of their creativity. He, in turn, acknowledged the contributions of David, a key organizer, Bobcat, who worked costume wonders, and Michael. In fact, whomever I managed to meet was always in awe and appreciation of the contribution of somebody else on their team.
This was the beginning of one of my first big lessons in the Burning Man difference: This was a culture that stature and motivation emerged from how much a person could give, from how much they were contributing. The outside world’s culture teaches us to compete, accumulate and eventually exploit. At Burning Man, people were always looking for a way to help and collaborate. I could see that as this cultural difference begins to sink in, our relationship with our community changes radically.
Besides the sales of ice and coffee to benefit local causes, there is no commerce allowed at Burning Man. People are radically self-reliant (defining principle) and yet share their art and resources in a unique economy of simply giving: (another defining principle).
The vehicle, Abraxas the Dragamuffin moved on to an art installation when more techno music was blazing. I followed them and we danced as if the party was still heating up. Disregard for sleep deprivation, what time it is, and fatigue aren’t defining Burning Man Principles but sometimes it seems so. Burning Man never, ever, never, ever, stops.
Eventually I went to attend an Art tour that the Media Mecca folks had organized for the press. They would take us to a sampling of the significant installations of Art on the playa via one of the many art cars, “Mutant Vehicles,” that had been radically converted to float across the desert as dynamic apparitions, reflecting some participant’s passionate vision.
Out of the myriad of possibilities, it was the Dragamuffin that arrived at Media Mecca to escort the journalists to the Artists. This synchronicity reinforced what I already felt, that I needed to know this clan. In fact, synchronicity is practically an ecological principle at Burning Man. Our experience reflects the totality of what we bring to it. A wise man once said. “The world is made of rings. The hooks are all yours.”
I had been at Burning Man long enough to realize that there were many worlds of Burning Man. Burning Man is an alternative culture. Culture is a vast and unfathomable phenomenon. I studied South Asian Culture at Berkeley and found out through living in India for a year that understanding a culture is far beyond categorizing its characteristics. Burning Man is no different. Whether we’re talking about our everyday life or Burning Man, my experience is that we don’t really understand the culture we are in, we just learn to conform to its expectations and find our place in its rubric. In everyday life, folks who don’t conform to the unwritten (and written) dictates of culture are eschewed from society.
This brings me to another Burning Man defining principle: Radical Inclusion. Burning Man proclaims an environment of tolerance and willingness to allow free expression. In fact, I think it would be accurate to define Burning Man as a framework for expression.
What do we need to express? Certainly our inspiration and our dreams, but also what we have had to repress. The allowance of expressions that are culturally suppressed elsewhere can be liberating. This also gives Burning Man its sometimes-lurid reputation. You can walk around naked at Burning Man if you like, and people sometimes do. For visitors from regular culture, this might seems shocking. For a veteran burner, public nudity loses its forbidden charge and life goes on. In fact between fantastic costumes and the lack of them, Burning Man often resembles the bar scene on another planet from a science fiction movie. Bizarre beings from different planets hang out together and enjoy themselves as if there were no differences between them.
It was apparent from meeting the artists at a variety of art installations out on the playa that stereotypes of Burners and Burning Man are fatally limited. Often the creator of a 50,000 pound structure of steel might be a serious engineer or software designer in ordinary life. This art was their expression and reflected many of their unique talents. Much of the art required genius of engineering and technology as well as creativity. Everything had to be erected out the remote desert on short order and packed up quickly after Burning Man was finished. Richard told me it took a whole day just to convert Abraxas into a form where it could travel the highways and a whole day to put her back together for the Playa.
I photographed a number of Mutant Vehicles and left my card with the drivers so I could share my images with them. Most seemed very pleased that their art was appreciated and happy that they could get photos of their project. I was pleased to find a creative niche where my skills not only expressed myself but contributed to the other contributors. Perhaps I had found a role for myself with the Abrasas crew in capturing some of their art while they labored at sharing it with everyone.
Still, after parting with the Dragon after the tour, I didn’t see them again for a few days. I was off with the special community of Yosemite friends I was camped with. We went off in a pack to dance to some favorite bands, BLVD and Hamsa Lila.
Hamsa Lila finished their set at Dawn. It was an unthinkable stretch of a night for me anywhere but Burning Man. Dawn at Burning Man seemed to offer a bliss and serenity that accompanied vision quest levels of fatigue. It was time to sweat in an attempt at sleep in my camper. I planned to take it easy on Friday since Saturday, when we burn the man, is a big night. Despite my best attempts at a mellow night, Friday night turned into another night of epic dance and I returned to my camper at 4 am.
The next day presented a problem. For many people, the central focal event of Burning Man is the burning the elaborate effigy of Black Rock City’s central landmark, the Man himself. For a photographer, it’s hard not to think of capturing the man’s immolation as “the money shot.” The problem is that by this time, there were almost 40, 000 people prepared to surround the Man. To get a relatively clear shot, many photographers arrive 3 hours in advance and camp out to reserve their spot.
I just decided that this represented too much striving for me to accept. I bicycled out to the Temple of Hope for sunset instead of parking myself at the Man. The Temple of Hope was a place of deep inspiration where the many burners had their hearts repeatedly melted. Blocks of wood and markers were available all around the temple. Participants would write their hopes, and often their pain, on the wood blocks and leave them in the temple to be consumed in the burning of the temple Sunday night. It was a new expression of an ancient ritual, using fire to bridge the dimension between this World and the timeless Universe. It was pointless to resist the tears as I read the expressions of forgiveness among family members, pain of lost loves and lives, and hopeful prayers for humanity. By another synchronicity, I connected with a wonderful person whom I had noticed among the 39,000 the previous night. After a moment of sacred space, I mounted my bike to continue my adventure only to witness the re-emergence of Abraxas.
I felt honored and blessed when I was allowed on board. In a city of 39,000, even the large Dragon had limited space and in my mind, there was no place I’d rather be for the big night when the Man is burned. I knew there would be something special about many of those who shared the night onboard. I don’t remember another night of meeting so many interesting and kindred spirits with whom mere eye contact ignited a heightened awareness of the presence of Being that we all have in common.
The Dragamuffin was also the ideal platform for photographing the Man! My photography goal had just been redeemed by a synchronicity without having to seek it through sacrificing my experience of the moment. Life is good and we all knew it. I had an ear to ear smile that wouldn’t go away.
The Man went up in smoke, I took pictures, and the Dragon flew amongst dance venues about the playa all night until finally the sun dawned unto a gathering of ourselves with the vast desert at our feet. We celebrated each other and the culmination of a vision that brought an amazing group of people together to create something remarkable to share with the Burning Man community. I felt really lucky to be there to witness it.
I found my way back to camp eventually and made another halfhearted attempt at really resting. It was always a pleasure to reconnect with the Yosemite crew.
One more synchronicity and I found myself visiting the Solaris section of Otter camp…the Dragon’s lair. I arrived just as the beast was heading out for the evening. I hopped on and I was back into the magic.
We positioned ourselves to witness the Temple burning. Unlike the Man, who goes down with a lot of noise and fireworks, the Temple is burned in silence. It might be the first silence in many days at Burning Man. The immolation of the Temple, with its written prayers, dreams, and pains, felt like a truly sacred moment deeply enhanced by the collective presence of those around me. The awareness of thousands of people focused at one time on the same thing is a truly powerful phenomenon. I’d like to thank those whom I shared it with.
It seems that it takes a setback to put us on the path we need to walk but wouldn’t ordinarily take. The Dragamuffin apparently had digestive problems and many of us needed to go our own way to allow the vessel to move on. For me it was an opportunity to walk across the desert alone at night, with a beautiful view of the distant burning Belgian Ukronia struture. Still inspired from the temple burning, I had the opportunity to take stock of my life and offer my love and gratitude to the source of all life, to all those who are connected to me, and in fact, to the world as a whole. It was an ineffable moment and I owe it to engine trouble.
There was a great party happening when I washed up on the shores of the Esplanade. My favorite band, Hamsa Lila, was playing again and eventually the tribe from the Dragon rolled in. In a city of 40,000 I gravitated towards my people, and I suspect many others found themselves in their own niche as well.
The next day I endured an epic traffic jam known as the “Exodus” when crowds leave Burning Man by funneling into a single lane of highway. It took me six hours to reach the highway from my camp! At Burning Man, you have to accept the bitter with the sweet. The heat, the dust, the exodus and the eternal search for a porta-potty: they are like all pains in life. Our resistance to the pain is worse than the pain itself. Accept your experience and you free yourself from most suffering. The exodus was my final exam for this lesson!
In my everyday culture, this would be the part of my writing where I draw conclusions and define my experience. The wisdom that kept suggesting itself to me throughout my time at Burning Man was to resist defining it, but rather immerse myself in the experience and share those moments with my community. I took something away with me that has nourished me and made me a better person, but I can’t explain it; and if I could, I’d be speaking for myself alone.
Photographing the mutant vehicles taught me that each camp and vehicle was it’s own sub-culture with it’s own traditions and expressions. Burning Man is the framework when everybody gets to act freely and in turn appreciate a bold diversity of other’s expressions. Of course the framework itself conditions the culture of Burning Man and reflects the founders who created it. The Republican party doesn’t maintain a theme camp at Burning Man even though the values of self-reliance, civic responsibility, sustainable financing, and less government seem more truly conservative than the policies of our present administration. That doesn’t mean that the principles of Burning Man couldn’t inspire very different events than those found on the Playa.
The Theme for Burning Man this year was Hope and Fear, the Future. I suspected that as oil depletion, an unsustainable economy and global warming threaten to disturb our safe and comfortable existence; the theme was a suggestion to both express and discuss the issues of our time and our lives as we face them together. That happened a bit in camps during lulls in the celebration and in the art itself. At Burning Man, I saw a wide diversity of people working hard to serve each other without prospect of monetary gain. The harder a future we face, the more we are going to need that kind of community.
I hope you all find inspiration, creativity, peace and love
Karl ‘Baba’ Bralich
