In the desert, a purple neon skeleton stood, with hordes of people, some nude, others singing and chanting, at its feet. With a burst of flame, the wooden frame stringing the glowing bones together erupted, and only a pillar of fire was left to hold up the dome of night. Thousands cheered. The slogan of the day was "No spectators." In 1998, the Black Rock Arts Festival, popularly known as "Burning Man" attracted 15,000 people to the Black Rock Desert in Nevada to watch a 50-foot tall, neon-lit wooden statue burn. The week-long annual ceremony is simulcast over the World Wide Web, has its own daily on-line newspaper, and has gone far beyond its pagan roots to become a major arts festival, one where musicians, fine artists, performance artists and weirdoes of all types spend a week making art, having sex, (reportedly) doing drugs and not buying anything. And they do it every year.
The "No spectators" slogan has been stretched to the brink by the media attention given to Burning Man, which includes annual coverage by CNN, Spin magazine and other mainstream press outlets. But living in a desert for a week requires active participation. "Villages" made of building material, tents, collections of cars and mutual religious, social, artistic, regional and sexual interests instantaneously formed during the 1996 ceremony. The Burning Man Festival is, for that week, Black Rock City, the largest settlement in the desert, a spontaneous city.
Not quite so spontaneously, the colorful and occasionally annoying Art Cars are licensed by the Department Of Mutant Vehicles and are the only ones allowed past the gates of the city, all other vehicles must stay in the massive desert parking lot. Black Rock City even has its own airport for small single-propeller plains to come to the event. And tickets are available through Ticketmaster and a variety of on-line sources, as well as one in-person site in California. The event has come a long way from its beginning in San Francisco when, as a solstice celebration, a dozen people sat around watching a man-sized bonfire sizzle away. Like a pagan "Easter Monday," even the actual day of the event has changed to better suit the allotted vacation time of a capitalist culture.
The 15,000 Burning Man attendees have to bring everything they need to survive the 110 degree heat and the occasional 70 mile per hour winds with them, and they must take everything back home when they leave. Even minor transactions like the sale of a personally owned can of soda are frowned upon, sharing is encouraged instead. The system seemingly works well. The federal Bureau Of Land Management even reported that "After the event was over, within a week of inspection, no trace of the burning ceremony or the camp site can be found," in 1991.
However, the very success of the festival is beginning to cause massive logistical problems for the temporary city in the desert. The main stage where musical groups performed for the entire city has been dismantled, there will be no main stage this year. The big rave has also been cancelled for the 1999 Burning Man. One day and press passes are unavailable as well, everyone has to pay full price (from $65 to $110 depending on when the tickets are purchased), even children and the few pets allowed into the city. In 1997, the Bureau Of Land Management failed to give Burning Man a permit, and the event had to be held on private land. The BLM relented afterwards though, and Burning Man was back in Black Rock for 1998. Burning Man runs in a state of constant deficit spending. In 1997, the electricity nearly failed, and only an additional $50,000 in on-the-spot donations kept the power on and the festival running. And in the clearest example that Burning Man is not free from the problems of modernity, last year's festival saw its first ever traffic jam. After the man burned on the last night of the festival, the desert itself became clogged with hundreds of cars, vans and recreational vehicles trying to get back home to civilization.