The weekend in the desert was wondrous, amazing, a Temporary Autonomous Zone full of performance art, sculpture, dance, music, painting (typically using the human body as a canvas), comedy, vaudeville, theater, technology, and whatever else you might be looking for. The other citizens of the Artist's Republic of Fremont and I, who had never been to a Burning Man festival before, can not compare this event to any other we had ever attended. The closest thing I can compare it to is perhaps the Grateful Dead show in Veneta in 1982, or Carnival in Tepotzlan, Mexico.
The scope of this year’s event was mind-blowing. Trying to explain it in words to people probably can not convey the chaotic frenzy of artistic output that went on over the course of three days, only to be destroyed or dismantled by the end of the festival. Next year I plan to bring an audio recorder so I can get the sounds of the event and capture thoughts as they happen.
Picture a mile-long promenade along the shore of a dry lake bed, along which are theme camps as varied as the H. Marx Memorial Croquet Society. The Art Cars Camp and the Sphere of Influence. The Grrlie Grrl tent, the Post Office Camp, the Illuminati Camp and the Black Light District. Each one of these camps were interactive in some way, designed to engage participation instead of observation. One of the most important rules at burning Man was "NO SPECTATORS."
