Burning Man. How I found truth in it

After Burning Man

Decompression complete! What the hell does that mean? It means that I am now able to talk about it, to lift the veil and to unleash the magic of my Burning Man days and nights and the moments in between. 

Where to begin? The flamethrower shooting range? The 12 hours of waiting in line coming in and out of the Playa? (For all you non Burners: Playa is the tribe’s playground). The fire-spitting pulpo mecanico? The naked photo shooting with Spencer Tunick in deep playa? – check out the article on ARTberlin.

Shall I start with the first blood orange sunrise over the vast white desert? or the moment when my synapses underwent a power surge the second I entered the esplanade for the first time at night? (the esplanade, is like the cruise strip of Burning Man, the corso).

Do you want me to start when I, as a Burning Man virgin, rolled around in the dust, rang the virgin bell and left my usually black-dressed being at the entrance? Or at the moment I followed a front porch on wheels into a white out and ended up at The Black Rock Bijou movie theatre, pop corn and everything, somewhere in deep playa, watching a strange but oddly sane 70s space movie? 

Wherever you decide to pick it up, it will most likely always blow your mind. Or better still, you will have no defense mechanisms and after the first day, every naked genital, every EL wire overkill, every insanity on wheels will seem like an everlasting epileptic shock you have just kinda come to terms with. 

Burning Man: The most wonderful and horrible place 

Burning Man is a challenge to your visual cortex. It is a challenge to your physical form as well, for there is very little sleep during the 8 days. And after that, you are facing the last and toughest of all challenges: the confrontation with the Self – simply because you are too exhausted to put up a fight. 

On Saturday, the Man burned, surrounded by 61.000 people and uncountable art cars. P. Diddy, was dancing with us at the Pink Mammoth gay camp. The everlasting rumor of Daft Punk having a private concert somewhere super secret hovered through the air. (THEY DIDN’T!) We followed Robot Heart and Richie Hawtin to dance the night to pieces.  

On Sunday, the Temple burned. 61.000 people sat silently and then erupted into a primal howl as the flames flooded the Playa in a heat tsunami swallowing all wishes and dreams, all goodbyes and grey matter that people had written on its wooden frame. 

Burning Man is not all fun and games. It is confronting, it is mad, it is ugly and awe-inspiring. It is the most wonderful and the most horrible place at the same time, it is shooting back and forth between the extremes like a pinball machine. But it leaves you with fireflies in your eyes and a lot of mad dust in your system.

Text_Sophie Weiser // Photos_ Duncan Rawlinson

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