What is it? At this stage in my association with the Burning Man Festival in The-Middle-Of-The-Desert, Nevada, it is what people talk about, write about, try to explain. It is: a week long art festival, an experiment in self-expression, self-reliance, anarchy, karma-economy. It is a drug fest, sex fest, love fest. It is either for those modern hippies that rub your arm when they talk to you and pry into your soul with their glossy, blissed out eyes, or for absolutely anyone and everyone (and I hear you could find even your grandfather there). It is a reason to brain storm without limitation, think of the craziest, strangest, most irrelevant ideas, surprising yet never shocking because I was expecting you to say something extremely unexpected, like that you're offering wine tastings from your belly-button.
What isn't clear to me is how this self-expressionism can truly exist as a part of a Group of people, a general Genre that we become a part of... Or how it can exist in a place where the pattern of thinking is more commonly shaped by the same illegal drugs(as opposed to the legal ones that shape thinking in the rest of America). Or maybe a lot of different drugs, but still, when we surrender our minds for a moment, we surrender our selves... Don't we?
I also can't quite wrap my head around how necessary materials for self-reliance in the desert include faux fur and glitter, along with a whole slew of unnecessary, burdensome things, a photo booth (apparently actually written, in this case, "photo boof"), 3 brightly colored wigs, 50-plus bottles of 20 year old wines... But I suppose this is an art festival, and what is art if not unnecessary... And at the same time, when I take a moment to examine myself, in many situations, hasn't art been necessary, in fact, for my survival?
One fact that doesn't need to be interpretted in order to be defined is that Burning Man is... The Desert. I can only base my images of the desert on deserts I have already experienced. The re-creation of Dubai, UAE couldn't hide the dust, dryness, wavering heat creating mirages dancing in the distance. Then there was the outdoor concert at the desert university in Beer Sheva, Israel where rain floated rather than fell and each droplet encased a globule of dust. Or camping with the nomads of the Israeli desert where the stars were so bright and numerous they inspired a couple insecure and bratty post-teenagers to recite poetry while waiting to fall asleep in sleeping bags laid out upon the dust.
I suppose for me, what embodies most concretely the only expectation I can form about Burning Man is a comedy sketch performed by a tasteless comedy duo from Great Brittain about a support group for people who want to lose weight. The woman (actually a man) leading the meating lists different foods for participants to determine their fat content. Chips... Lettuce... Dust.
"Dust, anyone? High in fat, low in fat?"
Silence... Very long silence.
"Dust is very low in fat. You can eat as much dust as you like."
So off I go in a few days time, maybe to express myself or someone else, maybe to learn to rely on myself in the elements, maybe to be inspired, to fall in love, to try something new... But definetly to eat lots and lots of dust.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcVZg2tVswk
