[Burning Man] and some more...
Sep. 7th, 2007 04:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magidIt's the desert, all alkaline dust and hard clay, the occasional pebble. So I was astonished and pleased that I got to see dragonflies twice, huge ones, too. I don't know where they came from, but they stopped for a time in our shade structure, and I got to gawk at their gorgeousness, which was emphasized by the contrast with the location.
As the sun set over the mountains each evening, it was celebrated down, people shouting all over the city as it went (sort of like the Shabbat sirens in Yerushalayim, actually). And then the city shifted. It was busy during the day, but even more so at night, people putting on different clothes, the music starting up at clubs and on party buses. The lights turned on, but very differently than other cities: no streetlights, no lit billboards or huge signs, just lit art and people making sure they were visible, whether afoot or on bike, with copious creative use of EL wire, sometimes just in pleasing geometric forms, sometimes in more representational ways (a bike transformed into a horse, a cloak covered in happy flowers, and so on). Some people had glow sticks, which weren't as versatile, or headlights (utilitarian, that's me). And the art installations were lit, of course, and camps tended to have some lights, here and there. On the whole, though, there's not the level of light cast upwards, polluting the night sky (which is why it was so lovely watching the eclipse, which was so easily visible).
About those large vehicles: some were gorgeously transformed buses, huge art cars (pirate ships, fire engines throwing fire, and so on). And some felt like they were just party buses, for some social clique or other to drive around and party with loud music and booze (etc.), rather like a zillion other club sorts of places. I didn't much care for those, partly because of the clique-thing, partly because their noise tended to be extreme. It didn't feel about the creativity, more having the dressed vehicle as a backdrop for yet another party scene. Not what I'd come to Burning Man to find. The smaller art cars didn't have those issues (though they sometimes broke the speed limit), and were more about the making of something fantastic out of something prosaic.
The city-wide speed limit is 5 miles/hour, though that seems to be for vehicles with engines more than feet. Keeping things that slow keeps the dust down, which makes a huge difference. It also means that having wholly chaotic traffic works, with motors, bikes, and pedestrians all over the streets. The motors don't have the force of intimidation as in usual situations, and I liked that democratization. (It felt a bit like I imagine in parts of Holland, for some reason.) I'm sure there were crashes, but not many, and very much less hazardous, even though pretty much no one was wearing helmets.
I drank a ton of water this week, with a few exceptions. I had milk with my cereal one morning (and that felt luxurious, to have cold milk in my bowl towards the end of the week). I had a sip of a martini, while out watching the Swarm the first night they performed. And the same guy, Dr. Evil, came by camp one afternoon carrying what looked like a boring black briefcase. Inside, however, were at least two tiny clay teapots, and more than half a dozen of those little no-handle tea cups that rest so comfortably in a cupped hand. I had some sips of a wonderful black tea (I wish I remember which kind, because I don't usually like black tea nearly that much), and it felt right to be drinking that, even in the heat of the afternoon. We finished, he packed up, and our walk-by tea-ing was over.
The Swarm is an amazing project that a bunch of Peeps were involved in. They're orbs that wander around, light showing through the (mesh doesn't seem right, and I can't come up with another word that's any better; go look at the pictures on the site) along with the robotic parts, casting interesting shadows at night (and leaving strange tracks. They seemed almost ETish, coming up to people for a moment or two, then retreating to go somewhere else. They seemed to move without external information, which made it that much cooler. There was also the Mother Ship, a four-person wheeled vehicle to transport them. Picture four people in a booth at a restaurant. Then change the seats to be individual ones, put a canopy overhead, and replace the table with a huge circle made of heavy wire and bike chain as a steering wheel any of the four riders could turn (with chain cup holders, even!). Below, there was a complicated assembly of wheels and places for the orbs to rest. Really really cool stuff.
About sirens: there were lots of noisy things going on, from amplified cello music (EL wire gracing the curves along one side of the instrument) to whole live bands to recorded music, to blasts of flame to large thuds to slow trucks to almost anything else. The one sound I had a problem with (other than being annoyed by the decibel level of some of the dance music, reaching so far out on that playa that even spaces out by the garbage fence weren't quiet) was one siren that rose and fell just enough like the azakah (siren) used in Israel during the Gulf War (the first one, back when it was the only one) to signal that it was time to get into our sealed room. It still makes me pause, every time I hear a sound like that, and want my masecha (gas mask). Nothing bad happened to me during the war, but it was a tense time, and I suspect it will always stay with me.
The first night, I ended up walking around alone, totally zoned even after a couple of hours of sleep, but unwilling to miss the eclipse, and feeling like I needed to explore, after a day mostly devoted to travel and set-up. So I followed my nose, out to Esplanade, and strolled towards 2:00. I saw an amazing glowing Buddha, lit up inside with changing colors, an internal opal, almost. Later in the week there seemed to be more going on around there, but I was content just to watch the Buddha. I also saw some 360 degree photos from Burning Men (Mans?) past, individual photos digitally sewn together. The best part was a couple of guys stopping to look, and recognizing one of their party :-). And tons of people were around, but not nearly so approachable as during the day, somehow (this changed for me over the week, as I settled in, but that first night was uncomfortable). Another part of night walks: when wearing the headlamp, I could see just how much dust was in the air, all the time, not just when the wind blew. I think it was a bit psychosomatic that I found it harder to breathe that first night...
A note on food: it was wonderful to do solar cooking. The other part of that was having sufficient quantities of food so that I could feed others, which is extremely satisfying to me. That came into play again when I pulled out the crystallized ginger, which was a big hit, and again let me give people food (though not of my making). Next time, I have to figure out what to bring that I could give people, rather like Electrictruffle did. Which deserves a mention of its own: he brought something like 30 pounds of truffles to the playa, with the right gear so that they survived the entire week. He's a gifted chocolatier, and getting to watch people's faces when they ate a truffle was amazing. There were at least four flavors: vanilla, chambord, amaretto, and habanero; the last one was my favorite, with an amazing flavor profile, starting out wholly chocolate, then coming into a nice kick at the end that ran down the throat. Totally wonderful.
Right. Must get other stuff done. Yet more later :-).
As the sun set over the mountains each evening, it was celebrated down, people shouting all over the city as it went (sort of like the Shabbat sirens in Yerushalayim, actually). And then the city shifted. It was busy during the day, but even more so at night, people putting on different clothes, the music starting up at clubs and on party buses. The lights turned on, but very differently than other cities: no streetlights, no lit billboards or huge signs, just lit art and people making sure they were visible, whether afoot or on bike, with copious creative use of EL wire, sometimes just in pleasing geometric forms, sometimes in more representational ways (a bike transformed into a horse, a cloak covered in happy flowers, and so on). Some people had glow sticks, which weren't as versatile, or headlights (utilitarian, that's me). And the art installations were lit, of course, and camps tended to have some lights, here and there. On the whole, though, there's not the level of light cast upwards, polluting the night sky (which is why it was so lovely watching the eclipse, which was so easily visible).
About those large vehicles: some were gorgeously transformed buses, huge art cars (pirate ships, fire engines throwing fire, and so on). And some felt like they were just party buses, for some social clique or other to drive around and party with loud music and booze (etc.), rather like a zillion other club sorts of places. I didn't much care for those, partly because of the clique-thing, partly because their noise tended to be extreme. It didn't feel about the creativity, more having the dressed vehicle as a backdrop for yet another party scene. Not what I'd come to Burning Man to find. The smaller art cars didn't have those issues (though they sometimes broke the speed limit), and were more about the making of something fantastic out of something prosaic.
The city-wide speed limit is 5 miles/hour, though that seems to be for vehicles with engines more than feet. Keeping things that slow keeps the dust down, which makes a huge difference. It also means that having wholly chaotic traffic works, with motors, bikes, and pedestrians all over the streets. The motors don't have the force of intimidation as in usual situations, and I liked that democratization. (It felt a bit like I imagine in parts of Holland, for some reason.) I'm sure there were crashes, but not many, and very much less hazardous, even though pretty much no one was wearing helmets.
I drank a ton of water this week, with a few exceptions. I had milk with my cereal one morning (and that felt luxurious, to have cold milk in my bowl towards the end of the week). I had a sip of a martini, while out watching the Swarm the first night they performed. And the same guy, Dr. Evil, came by camp one afternoon carrying what looked like a boring black briefcase. Inside, however, were at least two tiny clay teapots, and more than half a dozen of those little no-handle tea cups that rest so comfortably in a cupped hand. I had some sips of a wonderful black tea (I wish I remember which kind, because I don't usually like black tea nearly that much), and it felt right to be drinking that, even in the heat of the afternoon. We finished, he packed up, and our walk-by tea-ing was over.
The Swarm is an amazing project that a bunch of Peeps were involved in. They're orbs that wander around, light showing through the (mesh doesn't seem right, and I can't come up with another word that's any better; go look at the pictures on the site) along with the robotic parts, casting interesting shadows at night (and leaving strange tracks. They seemed almost ETish, coming up to people for a moment or two, then retreating to go somewhere else. They seemed to move without external information, which made it that much cooler. There was also the Mother Ship, a four-person wheeled vehicle to transport them. Picture four people in a booth at a restaurant. Then change the seats to be individual ones, put a canopy overhead, and replace the table with a huge circle made of heavy wire and bike chain as a steering wheel any of the four riders could turn (with chain cup holders, even!). Below, there was a complicated assembly of wheels and places for the orbs to rest. Really really cool stuff.
About sirens: there were lots of noisy things going on, from amplified cello music (EL wire gracing the curves along one side of the instrument) to whole live bands to recorded music, to blasts of flame to large thuds to slow trucks to almost anything else. The one sound I had a problem with (other than being annoyed by the decibel level of some of the dance music, reaching so far out on that playa that even spaces out by the garbage fence weren't quiet) was one siren that rose and fell just enough like the azakah (siren) used in Israel during the Gulf War (the first one, back when it was the only one) to signal that it was time to get into our sealed room. It still makes me pause, every time I hear a sound like that, and want my masecha (gas mask). Nothing bad happened to me during the war, but it was a tense time, and I suspect it will always stay with me.
The first night, I ended up walking around alone, totally zoned even after a couple of hours of sleep, but unwilling to miss the eclipse, and feeling like I needed to explore, after a day mostly devoted to travel and set-up. So I followed my nose, out to Esplanade, and strolled towards 2:00. I saw an amazing glowing Buddha, lit up inside with changing colors, an internal opal, almost. Later in the week there seemed to be more going on around there, but I was content just to watch the Buddha. I also saw some 360 degree photos from Burning Men (Mans?) past, individual photos digitally sewn together. The best part was a couple of guys stopping to look, and recognizing one of their party :-). And tons of people were around, but not nearly so approachable as during the day, somehow (this changed for me over the week, as I settled in, but that first night was uncomfortable). Another part of night walks: when wearing the headlamp, I could see just how much dust was in the air, all the time, not just when the wind blew. I think it was a bit psychosomatic that I found it harder to breathe that first night...
A note on food: it was wonderful to do solar cooking. The other part of that was having sufficient quantities of food so that I could feed others, which is extremely satisfying to me. That came into play again when I pulled out the crystallized ginger, which was a big hit, and again let me give people food (though not of my making). Next time, I have to figure out what to bring that I could give people, rather like Electrictruffle did. Which deserves a mention of its own: he brought something like 30 pounds of truffles to the playa, with the right gear so that they survived the entire week. He's a gifted chocolatier, and getting to watch people's faces when they ate a truffle was amazing. There were at least four flavors: vanilla, chambord, amaretto, and habanero; the last one was my favorite, with an amazing flavor profile, starting out wholly chocolate, then coming into a nice kick at the end that ran down the throat. Totally wonderful.
Right. Must get other stuff done. Yet more later :-).