[Burning Man] redux
Sep. 17th, 2007 04:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magidSomeday I'll be caught up. Hopefully before the day before never.
I knew going in that there are only two things sold at Burning Man (coffee and ice), and for the rest, it is a gift economy. I didn't think about it particularly until a couple of guys who looked very much like backpacking ex-military guys stopped by for some Peeps and asked where they could trade for some necklaces, since they had stuff to trade. I was a bit baffled by this, because I'd given/been given some lovely jewelry, and couldn't figure out what to say to them. I thought about it more, especially in light of some of the questions on the BRC census about automaticity of reciprocity in giving (sometimes, always, never, etc), and realized that it comes down to it being a gift economy, not a barter one. Sure, sometimes there are barters, but the majority of exchanges really are gifts. There were times I gave and was given nothing (physical) in return (of course, this ignores the satisfaction of having given and happiness of having one's creation liked and the pleasure one has given to someone else with the giving; those aren't solid facts, like a thing), or received and gave nothing but thanks, and there were times there were mutual giftings. I realize now that while they can look quite similar, there's a very big difference between mutual giftings and barter, where it's more of a financial transaction minus money, each person making sure that there's equivalent value, and so on. Those guys who came by the camp didn't really understand the distinction. I suppose I should've told them they should just give where/when they wanted, and they'd receive at some point, but I suspect they'd feel too much like they weren't sure of getting enough value for what they gave.
I filled out a census the last night I was there. It's a huge mass of questions; I wish I'd kept a copy of it. There were some of the usual demographic questions, about age and other home location and times at BRC. And there were other, less expected questions, about uses of fire in one's life, for instance. And others that I found hard to answer, and can't remember well enough to discuss. It surprised me that there even was a census, though.
I was lucky enough to get to see an installation of a grapestem (here's a couple of photos of the grape stem (scroll down to the second and third photos)) with the sculptor (welder? That's more accurate for describing process, but doesn't have the same art overtones.). It's impressively not right... in the angle sense, that is: no 90° angles anywhere. At night, the lone grape unwanted by the giant who ate all the other metal fruits was lit slightly green. (Come to think of it, that giant didn't have any sense of moop at all! Though I suppose I should be glad they don't seem to be seeded grapes... :-) Benzero was in the next camp over, and it was inspiring to meet someone who'd taken their first Burn to heart, going out and learning new skills to make new kinds of art. I can't quite see myself welding (yet?), but I want to hold on to that kind of force for transformation and creative change.
Other art things that have stuck with me:
- curved triangular 'sails' near the grape stem, elegant in their simplicity (and reminding me of the sailboats on the Charles, back in an environment where water is normal)
- lots of pairs of shoes that looked rather like they were made of glow-in-the-dark material (which were apparently wired to blow up some time, but I never saw that)
- a bunch of giant glass marbles (I have no idea what inspired them, but they were pretty, even as the dust drifted over them)
- an installation of different sizes of 'alphabet blocks' (the colorful wooden kind kids have, but these were made individually), that lined up just so from the right point, not only spelling out a message (I think it was "where are you" when I visited), but looking the same size, due to perspective (what an excellent application of ratios problem :-)
- a light orchard to meander through, all different color lights hanging down rather like individual fruits, which fascinated me at night. The 'trees' could be uprooted and put on bikes; I saw the fireflies out a couple of nights. (There was another orchard with metallic things as well as lights hanging, over by center camp, but that was lit up too much for it to feel as mysterious to me.)
- drawing on cardboard discs, then finding out that they could be put on things that spun, a row of all different designs spinning as people got close to them. I would've drawn something different had I realized how it would be used (we happened upon the place from the side, rather than the front).
- the sphinx-headed bus that was blasting the Sesame Street counting song ("one two three four five, six seven eight nine ten, eleven twelve")
- the phone booth that was a direct line to G@d. I never called, so I don't know Who answered...
Friday afternoon I had a particularly wonderful time: it was the only time all week I was out as part of a bike posse, all of us just going to explore what the city offered (rather than having the stress of trying to meet up with people or being out alone or in pairs), and that felt incredibly right. Yay for Powerfrau, Lee, Marnie, and Benzero, my posse Peeps (ok, one honorary Peep :-).
First stop was at the Man; I hadn't yet seen any of the exhibits underneath, which had to do with environmentalism, mostly, given the theme of The Green Man. It could've had to do with the hidden man in nature, but that idea never seemed to happen in the (semi) official locations for things. I know there was disagreement about some of the environmental exhibits being underwritten by corporate sponsors, even though there weren't official notices, too.
The first thing I saw was an octagonal yurt that was made of some kind of foiled-over something board (yeah, great description, I know). It was great protection from the dust storm that sprang up, though pretty dark inside with the air flap closed and the door in place. The assortment of random people did what people do in these sorts of thrown-together situations: shared snacks, attempted duck duck goose (until someone fell down), and a run-on story word by word. Eventually, it was so warm (good insulation!) that the dust storm seemed preferable, and it was wonderful to get out into the wind (which had died down some).
I looked a little at some of the other exhibits, but got turned off when I saw an installation describing all the ways by which to reduce one's carbon footprint... including eschewing air travel. I don't like being scolded for my environmental impact by coming to Burning Man! I was totally turned off the rest of it, and ended up meandering through the sculptures close by instead, many of which were turning in the wind (and were designed to (these ones, in fact; the SF Chronicle has some wonderful photos!).
When the wind had died down some, we went over to the other side of the city, where there was a camp that was mostly Boston people, and had a sauna, as well as someone Powerfrau thought might be around. He wasn't, nor was Xuth, so we didn't stick around, but continued on our peregrinations.
We found a water slide, a long piece of some kind of plastic well wetted down, with people sliding as far as they could. Some made it under the little bridge partway (keep the head down to avoid injury!), and a few made it the entire length and off the other end (read: got covered in wet dust). I watched from the shade of the bar. Oddly (to me, anyway), there was a flogging station being used by the end of the bar nearest the street. The location seemed strange to me.
After a while, we meandered on, stopping at a 'store' on the way. It was a shade structure with things available to take, including clothes, costume jewelry, and a whole box full of those name tags sewn on mechanics' shirts. Plus other stuff. Or one could leave things (not that I'd brought anything appropriate with me). A couple of people found the name they wanted in the box :-).
We were circling around the city, and not long after, the dust storm was back. Or rather, its older sister, much more intense. It got darker, not a white-out but a brown-out, as the dust went flying. We lay the bikes down and huddled in the lee of a pickup truck, grabbing a few discarded boxes out of a bin to block the wind/dust coming under the truck. It was really clear to me that my goggles were horrible, also my dust mask. I had a bandanna on over the mask, which helped... except that my nose/throat thing (developed my second day there) was active, my nose running. Ick. I couldn't help but think of the doctor in Jerusalem who told me I wasn't allowed to wear my gas mask during alarms until my cold had passed.
The wind was quite strong. I asked whether this was a usual strength, and was told that it was fiercer than the others were used to. Which made me feel a bit better; I was annoyed about my nose and my sucky gear, but I was surviving what the environment was throwing, and there was strength in that. OK, and it didn't hurt to see how Lee and Benzero were rather elated by the storm. We stayed by the truck a while, but it wasn't dying down, so we decided to keep moving, walking our bikes this time. I turned on as many lights as I had, to make it easier to keep together, since visibility was so poor.
At some point it seemed like things were getting a little clearer, and we started cycling again, in search of better shelter. Most places were filled with people who'd already sought refuge, though, so we kept on. One place had people out reveling in the weather, without any protection; that astounded me.
Eventually we made our way to a camp that Marnie knew, and it was rather a relief to be able to have my face clear (and deal with my annoying nose), and have less wind singing in my ears. Which was great... until I remembered that I'd have to keep moving and get back home before Shabbat started.
We started out again, and happily the wind was much much lower. It wasn't long before we were home, in plenty of time for me to do the minimal prep I needed. There was a little rain, not enough to make mud, but enough to settle some of the dust still blowing around (and why is it that some wind kicks up dust, while other wind just passes through?)... and that lead to the double rainbow, a wonderful end of the adventure.
I still haven't gotten my own photos together; that should happen by later this week, though, with Rhya's help.
I knew going in that there are only two things sold at Burning Man (coffee and ice), and for the rest, it is a gift economy. I didn't think about it particularly until a couple of guys who looked very much like backpacking ex-military guys stopped by for some Peeps and asked where they could trade for some necklaces, since they had stuff to trade. I was a bit baffled by this, because I'd given/been given some lovely jewelry, and couldn't figure out what to say to them. I thought about it more, especially in light of some of the questions on the BRC census about automaticity of reciprocity in giving (sometimes, always, never, etc), and realized that it comes down to it being a gift economy, not a barter one. Sure, sometimes there are barters, but the majority of exchanges really are gifts. There were times I gave and was given nothing (physical) in return (of course, this ignores the satisfaction of having given and happiness of having one's creation liked and the pleasure one has given to someone else with the giving; those aren't solid facts, like a thing), or received and gave nothing but thanks, and there were times there were mutual giftings. I realize now that while they can look quite similar, there's a very big difference between mutual giftings and barter, where it's more of a financial transaction minus money, each person making sure that there's equivalent value, and so on. Those guys who came by the camp didn't really understand the distinction. I suppose I should've told them they should just give where/when they wanted, and they'd receive at some point, but I suspect they'd feel too much like they weren't sure of getting enough value for what they gave.
I filled out a census the last night I was there. It's a huge mass of questions; I wish I'd kept a copy of it. There were some of the usual demographic questions, about age and other home location and times at BRC. And there were other, less expected questions, about uses of fire in one's life, for instance. And others that I found hard to answer, and can't remember well enough to discuss. It surprised me that there even was a census, though.
I was lucky enough to get to see an installation of a grapestem (here's a couple of photos of the grape stem (scroll down to the second and third photos)) with the sculptor (welder? That's more accurate for describing process, but doesn't have the same art overtones.). It's impressively not right... in the angle sense, that is: no 90° angles anywhere. At night, the lone grape unwanted by the giant who ate all the other metal fruits was lit slightly green. (Come to think of it, that giant didn't have any sense of moop at all! Though I suppose I should be glad they don't seem to be seeded grapes... :-) Benzero was in the next camp over, and it was inspiring to meet someone who'd taken their first Burn to heart, going out and learning new skills to make new kinds of art. I can't quite see myself welding (yet?), but I want to hold on to that kind of force for transformation and creative change.
Other art things that have stuck with me:
- curved triangular 'sails' near the grape stem, elegant in their simplicity (and reminding me of the sailboats on the Charles, back in an environment where water is normal)
- lots of pairs of shoes that looked rather like they were made of glow-in-the-dark material (which were apparently wired to blow up some time, but I never saw that)
- a bunch of giant glass marbles (I have no idea what inspired them, but they were pretty, even as the dust drifted over them)
- an installation of different sizes of 'alphabet blocks' (the colorful wooden kind kids have, but these were made individually), that lined up just so from the right point, not only spelling out a message (I think it was "where are you" when I visited), but looking the same size, due to perspective (what an excellent application of ratios problem :-)
- a light orchard to meander through, all different color lights hanging down rather like individual fruits, which fascinated me at night. The 'trees' could be uprooted and put on bikes; I saw the fireflies out a couple of nights. (There was another orchard with metallic things as well as lights hanging, over by center camp, but that was lit up too much for it to feel as mysterious to me.)
- drawing on cardboard discs, then finding out that they could be put on things that spun, a row of all different designs spinning as people got close to them. I would've drawn something different had I realized how it would be used (we happened upon the place from the side, rather than the front).
- the sphinx-headed bus that was blasting the Sesame Street counting song ("one two three four five, six seven eight nine ten, eleven twelve")
- the phone booth that was a direct line to G@d. I never called, so I don't know Who answered...
Friday afternoon I had a particularly wonderful time: it was the only time all week I was out as part of a bike posse, all of us just going to explore what the city offered (rather than having the stress of trying to meet up with people or being out alone or in pairs), and that felt incredibly right. Yay for Powerfrau, Lee, Marnie, and Benzero, my posse Peeps (ok, one honorary Peep :-).
First stop was at the Man; I hadn't yet seen any of the exhibits underneath, which had to do with environmentalism, mostly, given the theme of The Green Man. It could've had to do with the hidden man in nature, but that idea never seemed to happen in the (semi) official locations for things. I know there was disagreement about some of the environmental exhibits being underwritten by corporate sponsors, even though there weren't official notices, too.
The first thing I saw was an octagonal yurt that was made of some kind of foiled-over something board (yeah, great description, I know). It was great protection from the dust storm that sprang up, though pretty dark inside with the air flap closed and the door in place. The assortment of random people did what people do in these sorts of thrown-together situations: shared snacks, attempted duck duck goose (until someone fell down), and a run-on story word by word. Eventually, it was so warm (good insulation!) that the dust storm seemed preferable, and it was wonderful to get out into the wind (which had died down some).
I looked a little at some of the other exhibits, but got turned off when I saw an installation describing all the ways by which to reduce one's carbon footprint... including eschewing air travel. I don't like being scolded for my environmental impact by coming to Burning Man! I was totally turned off the rest of it, and ended up meandering through the sculptures close by instead, many of which were turning in the wind (and were designed to (these ones, in fact; the SF Chronicle has some wonderful photos!).
When the wind had died down some, we went over to the other side of the city, where there was a camp that was mostly Boston people, and had a sauna, as well as someone Powerfrau thought might be around. He wasn't, nor was Xuth, so we didn't stick around, but continued on our peregrinations.
We found a water slide, a long piece of some kind of plastic well wetted down, with people sliding as far as they could. Some made it under the little bridge partway (keep the head down to avoid injury!), and a few made it the entire length and off the other end (read: got covered in wet dust). I watched from the shade of the bar. Oddly (to me, anyway), there was a flogging station being used by the end of the bar nearest the street. The location seemed strange to me.
After a while, we meandered on, stopping at a 'store' on the way. It was a shade structure with things available to take, including clothes, costume jewelry, and a whole box full of those name tags sewn on mechanics' shirts. Plus other stuff. Or one could leave things (not that I'd brought anything appropriate with me). A couple of people found the name they wanted in the box :-).
We were circling around the city, and not long after, the dust storm was back. Or rather, its older sister, much more intense. It got darker, not a white-out but a brown-out, as the dust went flying. We lay the bikes down and huddled in the lee of a pickup truck, grabbing a few discarded boxes out of a bin to block the wind/dust coming under the truck. It was really clear to me that my goggles were horrible, also my dust mask. I had a bandanna on over the mask, which helped... except that my nose/throat thing (developed my second day there) was active, my nose running. Ick. I couldn't help but think of the doctor in Jerusalem who told me I wasn't allowed to wear my gas mask during alarms until my cold had passed.
The wind was quite strong. I asked whether this was a usual strength, and was told that it was fiercer than the others were used to. Which made me feel a bit better; I was annoyed about my nose and my sucky gear, but I was surviving what the environment was throwing, and there was strength in that. OK, and it didn't hurt to see how Lee and Benzero were rather elated by the storm. We stayed by the truck a while, but it wasn't dying down, so we decided to keep moving, walking our bikes this time. I turned on as many lights as I had, to make it easier to keep together, since visibility was so poor.
At some point it seemed like things were getting a little clearer, and we started cycling again, in search of better shelter. Most places were filled with people who'd already sought refuge, though, so we kept on. One place had people out reveling in the weather, without any protection; that astounded me.
Eventually we made our way to a camp that Marnie knew, and it was rather a relief to be able to have my face clear (and deal with my annoying nose), and have less wind singing in my ears. Which was great... until I remembered that I'd have to keep moving and get back home before Shabbat started.
We started out again, and happily the wind was much much lower. It wasn't long before we were home, in plenty of time for me to do the minimal prep I needed. There was a little rain, not enough to make mud, but enough to settle some of the dust still blowing around (and why is it that some wind kicks up dust, while other wind just passes through?)... and that lead to the double rainbow, a wonderful end of the adventure.
I still haven't gotten my own photos together; that should happen by later this week, though, with Rhya's help.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 08:40 pm (UTC)(I don't think I would've articulated that during the Burn, though.)
PS
Date: 2007-09-17 08:44 pm (UTC)(I had a hard time sometimes giving my crocheted jewelry away, just because each piece was different, so I had to think about which one seemed to fit the person, or let them choose, which is more involved than "here, have a necklace" (one of a bunch of the same thing repeated.)
no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 11:07 pm (UTC)The essence of a gift economy is that one derives status from the gifts one gives. The more of them, and the more lavish, the greater one's stature. So camps will freely distribute alcohol to all comers for an entire week, for example, as a way of showing their chops through largesse. If you can't give something equal back in return, then you are lower on the coolness scale than they are.
So for obvious reasons it's rude to refuse anyone's gift — it's their way of saying that they exist in the community, in essence. But of course giving something back is essential. Otherwise you're accepting their gift as charity to you, which makes you a beggar, a total scrub. One of my enduring memories is of meeting some poorly equipped midwestern Burners in the middle of a sudden sandstorm. I had spare masks and goggles, which I gave them without hesitation, and almost refused to take anything in return — poor bastards, I thought, I just want to make sure they aren't miserable out here in the sand. But I realized before I said anything that to put them that much in obligation to me would make them miserable in a different way. They gave me handfuls of river stones that they'd brought with them — I still have them to this day.
One of the greatest things about Burning Man is that the concept is extended to intangible commodities like talent, participatory involvement, and attention span — and in fact these things are among the more valuable giftable commodities one has to offer, so that returning the booze camp's hospitality by tending bar for an hour, for instance, is a way for a materially poor Burner to turn around and assert their own value. It's a way of saying that they, too, are a part of the community.
I think that a lot of anxiety that people experience as they adjust to the environment there would be ameliorated if it were considered more acceptable to openly talk about the materialistic and (gently) competitive aspects of gift economies.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-18 02:04 pm (UTC)I was asked at the beginning of the week whether the things I'd brought to give were for gift or barter, and I couldn't answer. As it turned out, I never felt like I was bartering, so I feel less than able to discuss how that would work at BRC, while gifting was happening everywhere, copiously.
This year there were huge numbers of newbies (I heard figures as high as 60%); I wonder whether that made for more anxiety, in that there were fewer knowledgeable people.