A temporary encampment of tents, yurts and RVs dubbed Black Rock City that rises for one week in the hot and desolate Nevada desert (a two-hour drive north of Reno, Nev.), Burning Man — guided by 10 principles that include participation, civic responsibility, immediacy and inclusion — is Cirque du Soleil, Coachella, Art Basel and Woodstock all rolled into one, under a layer of notoriously hard-to-scrub-off mineral dust. The entire week is capped by the ritual burning of the towering wooden Man effigy (2014's was 105 feet tall) on Saturday night each year. "It's really hard to explain why it's so amazing to be in the desert with no shower, no physical comforts. It's really harsh," says Levi Vieira, a makeup artist who married his partner, Zack Bunker, a digital asset manager, there in 2014. "It's really a vacation for the soul, not for the body."
Regulars call the festival — located in a desert basin called a playa — life-changing. "If you work in a creative industry, this is a must-see," says Amazon Studios head of drama and 13-time attendee Morgan Wandell, who, over the years, has brought along ITV's Adam Sher, Armie Hammer and John Stamos to experience the fun. Says artist Trek Thunder Kelly, who has been going for more than two decades: "Imagine that you've taken the red pill in The Matrix and walked into Alice in Wonderland on the planet Tatooine. You can have free waffles with a crew dressed like Elvis, make jewelry in a Bedouin tent, learn how to pole dance [and] take a seminar on making absinthe."
Amazon Studios' Wandell (far right) and friends in 2015.
Costume-wise, there's no such thing as subtle, and people enjoying the anonymity of dust-blocking masks include Will Smith and Katy Perry, whose goggles caused her to take a spill on a Segway in 2015. "People can cut loose without people knowing who you are," says Fifty Shades of Grey and House of Cards producer Dana Brunetti, who "Burned" for the first time in 2014. Notes Hand of God actor Julian Morris, who stars in the upcoming Watergate film Felt: "You want something that's as loud and ridiculous as you can possibly imagine; someone lent me a sequined circus master jacket." Jokes Gersh agent Jeff Greenberg, who has been going for four years: "Bring a tutu. Otherwise, you will look silly."
As it is every year, nothing is for sale (except for coffee and ice) in what is called a giving economy, whether it's camps that give away grilled cheeses or beignets, have open bars or misting stations or games (one year, there was flaming skee ball), or simply offer free hugs. "You might be cycling around on the playa, and you'll see this tent with older folks cycling on stationary bikes to generate a motor to make shaved ice with syrups like you get in Hawaii," says Morris, "and they are just giving them to you in the heat and the dust." Explains Greenberg: "The first year I went, we talked about what we were bringing. I was bringing coconut water, and someone said they were bringing empathy, and I remember thinking, 'If I hand you a coconut water and you hand back some empathy, I'm going to be pissed.' Now I get it, the idea of listening to people and how it makes me a better agent and human. So getting that recharged every year is really important."
Perry in full dust-busting regalia.
In recent years, though, Burning Man has been roiled by growing pains brought on by success. (Tickets, $390 to $1,200, go on sale each year on BurningMan.org in February and quickly sell out.) What are known as plug-and-play or turnkey camps have sprung up, where people pay thousands of dollars to have everything set up and provided for them when they arrive, including showers, air conditioning, private chefs, guides and even costumes. Critics have howled that the camps violate principles of Burning Man, including radical self-reliance, participation, gifting, communal effort and decommodification. The issue blew out into the open in 2014 when a paid employee at one of the camps, Caravancicle (cost per person: $16,500), wrote a widely shared online story about her experience there, alleging that models had been hired to entertain guests and that the bar, which was supposed to be public, was later restricted to camp members wearing wristbands. "It's gotten bigger, and the obscenely wealthy have all added it to their bucket list," says director/composer Jerry Brunskill. "Most don't embrace the original intent of the festival and show up with private planes and lavish housing with air-conditioning, and personal chefs and all that barf." Mitch Eakins, an actor who worked at a similar encampment a few years ago, tells THR that the downside at his camp was that "it wasn't inclusive. We had little barricaded areas." But Eakins believes that the upside of such camps is that the one percent are exposed to the ethos of Burning Man, and some return to more actively participate. "One guy who came now donates money throughout the year to different art projects and he volunteers in the temple. He is so into it," he says.
Last year, though, after the Caravancicle debacle, Burning Man organizers instituted new rules to limit such camps, including rigorous vetting procedures for camps seeking early access to ensure they offer sufficient interactivity and public events. However, Burning Man's founder Larry Harvey made it clear in a statement that the festival isn't keen on purists judging others for luxurious camps (years before, RVs were the offending party). "Scan Burning Man's 10 Principles, and you will not find radical equality among them," Harvey wrote. "This is because our city has always been a place where old and young, rich and poor, can live on common ground. But common ground is not a level playing field and should not be interpreted as mandating equal living conditions."
Besides, it's easy to avoid what you want to since "Black Rock City is the third-biggest city in Nevada when it's going on. There is literally something for everyone," says Greenberg.
No comments:
Post a Comment