Burning Man 2017: Photos and Stories, Part 2 (of 2)

Burning Man 2017:

Neighborhood Stroll and

Marching Band March-Off 

Part 1 here.

My little neighborhood of Black Rock City is my haven of peace and familiarity, dearer to me than the amazing and inspiring open playa with its massive interactive art pieces and dreamlike quality.  I tend to make friends among my neighbors during the pre-event setup, and some of those connections end up being the most rewarding.

It sounds like I'm exaggerating, but no.

My fourth year, I remember my across-the-street neighbors, Moose and Bruce, from Texas stayed in their camp the whole week, as far as I could tell. They just got drunk and pranked passers-by with the old wallet-on-a-string trick. I couldn't believe they would pay all that money just to hang out in camp, sometimes watching the fires over the city from on top of their RV.

But now I get it. It is just as valid to stay in camp and set up an experience for others to come in and enjoy. My experience now, as contrasted to my earlier years, is about service, as opposed to receiving. I have no doubt received gifts of incalculable value in my years at the event. At some point, my cup did runneth over, and I had to spill my own gifts back into the community which had given me so much.

So now, if I get out of my camp to see some art on the playa, a few neighboring camps, I count myself lucky.

\Monday, post-burn: taking a break during camp take-down to grab some iced coffee from my neighbor.  Stripes abound.

A sunset stroll at Burning Man 2017.

My Laughter Yoga class commences at 5:00 every evening, which anchors me to my camp at that time, barring some extreme emergency.

So, about 6:00, I have time to wander out of my camp and get some good pictures of my neighborhood in the waning sunlight.

I have very little knowledge of what these camps hold, other than what is obvious. Any one of them could be the very paradise that any particular Burning Man attendee may seek.

The Burning Man Marching Band, aka the Burning Band, has been marching around the playa playing Dixieland classics for almost the entire history of Burning Man. There are no auditions or requirements for participation; you just grab an instrument and march along. In this tradition, other bands have emerged on the Burning Man stage. And for the last several years, they have competed in the Center Camp Cafe's central performance area, on Thursday night. Hosted by Burning Man mini-celeb, artist Stephen Ra$pa, this event is raucous and wild.

There were four bands this year. The highlight was Axon, a new contender. They were an octet, playing gypsy klesmer music. Klesmer is Yiddish jazz. Axon was amazing, and were certainly the best band as far as the tightness of their performance. The quieter instruments were electrified, with amps mounted on backpacks, lit up to spell out "Axon."

Gamelan X is a perennial favorite, who I believe won last year. As everyone knows, a gamelan is an Eastern instrument, consisting of many brass bells and gongs, played by a large group. Gamelan X is this, but incorporating a Western sound, with a guy on drum kit, and with choreography that tells a story in pantomime. Their sound is otherworldly, but still somehow familiar. I always enjoy their performances, but they might have been a bit short-handed this time around. I didn't see their giant bell which has to be wheeled out on a cart. Regardless, they played well, pleasing the crowd.

Finally, the Burning Band played their folk standards, like "Little Brown Jug." They had a massive group, probably around eighty people.  They sing as well as play. Some have matching uniforms, some not. There is no conductor, and everyone is pretty much doing their own thing. A few furries and a mime provided extra hype. They ended up taking the prize, based on their enthusiasm, and respect for their long commitment to the art.

A fourth marching band was more forgettable, and I hate to leave them unmentioned, though I took no pictures of them. They were chaotic and abrasive, using sex appeal and innuendo as their main attraction. Their performances made it seem a little like they were playing a prank on the audience. Their claim to being a marching band was a bit frail, but who am I to judge? If anything, it inspires me to try to create my own unique flavor of traveling musical act.

Back home to Pepperland. Here, the back of the camp, a great sunset and my camp mate, Craig, who took the shots of me by my dome. 

Some more of my campmates on Sunday, midway through the camp tear-down.

Big Daddy, Twinsaboy, Gerflash

Nostrildamus, Monica, Russell

Craig and Ronit

Nostrildamus and Sgt Pepper

Fred, aka Twinsaboy

Showing some leg

Me, scruffy and somber, at some burn or other.

Something burning. Does it really matter what?

Til next year!

New Palm Frond Masks: Red Stone, Long Face. Updated!

Update: Finished this one.

Red Stone Face

Acrylic on Palm Frond

Feb 2017

Original Post:

I've been working on my palm frond masks lately.

Red Stone Face
Acrylic on Palm Frond
Feb 2017

I've cleaned up a new batch of downed frond bases. That involves trimming off the excess fringes, messy and breakable edges of the fronds, with saw, razor and shears. Then sanding the remaining rough edge as smooth as possible-- this part is tricky because the wood is porous with thick fibers, so sanding the edge more and more just ends up revealing more and more rough fiber ends.

I left them, concave side up outside in the pouring once-in-a-lifetime torrential California rain, and they got pretty clean, like being power-washed. Some sanding remains to be done on the surfaces, which often shed a wispy filmy skin which kind hinders the painting process.

Then the design goes on. I have a plan to do more quicker ones, say under an hour of painting, as well as a few more intricately designed ones taking much longer.

Long Face
Acrylic on Palm Frond
Jan 2017

Here pictured are an example of each type. The red mask was inspired by a vision, of a red stone face, not surprisingly. I have a bit more work to do on that one.

The wood textured mask was more or less doodled onto the frond in black acrylic paint, diluted with water. It has eye holes which I had drilled previously.  Painting the face on it took me considerably less than an hour. More like 5-10 minutes.

You need a mask! I have your mask! Hit me up! Let's make a deal, I will work with your budget. What kind of mask do you want? I'm your man for palm frond masks. I can draw or paint Your Face on a palm frond, and it will actually look like you! Or your loved one, your pet, or your favorite person or animal or image!

BFF!  Best Fronds Forever!

Support the Arts!

Burning Man 2016: Photos and Stories, Part 3 (of 3) The Best of them ALL!!!

The temple was fairly glorious this year, in the style of a pagoda, designed by master temple builder, David Best, who always infuses his creations with a mix of eastern and western symbols and architecture, but always leaning towards the East. This year's was no exception, with its central spire hanging down, nearly grazing the spire jutting up from the stupa, the central altar, table or platform. As usual, Burning Man's participants fill the walls with writings, drawings, art, photos, small to large shrines, and every manner of mishmosh to signify their deep feelings to be released. All of it that's made to burn, is burned up in the final Temple fire on Sunday night.

I made it out to the Temple on Friday, after spending some time at the Man and surrounding Guilds.  I'd heard that the Temple this year was made from mostly (like 80%?) recycled wood, mostly from shipping palettes. The use of repurposed wood was a condition of the temple builder's son contributing to the construction.

Inside, I found my spot, which called to me with its offer of space and comfort. Sitting, I meditated for awhile, eyes open, just taking in the breathtaking beauty around me. The structure was amazing, and all around me were the beautiful members of my community of souls, all deep in their rituals: meditating, crying, leaving their remembrances. Without having any particular focus for my feelings, I just let the tears pour out me as they naturally would, my mind more or less a blank, just reacting to what I was seeing and experiencing. The deep and dramatic emotions released in this place just resonate around the cathedral ceiling, swirling around all occupants, a palpable force. It's hard to be in here and not be affected by it, not be swept along in the current of outpouring emotional energy.

After a time, having gotten my release, I was ready to move on.

As I wander outside, checking out the other structures on the temple's "grounds", a mighty vortex is whipped up in the distance.

The Lighthouse.
Of all the large art installations on playa this year, this was the grand-daddy, the big prize-winner, if there were such a thing. Massive, extensive, gorgeous, and no doubt one of the happenin' spots on the playa this year. I didn't go up inside it, as I eschew lines at Burning Man (unless it's for food). But, I got some good shots of the outside, and some of the art inside the towers. I also missed the burning of this structure, but I hear it was spectacular.

But speaking of burns, I did manage to catch the tail-end of the Temple Burn, and the subsequent swarming around the bonfire which is annual tradition. It's always a scene at the Man and Temple burns, with everyone doing their thing around, and in relation to, this absolutely huge and intensely hot fire.  One guy was using a space blanket over his face to get close enough to the fire to roast marshmallows, which went into s'mores which he was passing out.  Drummers and other musicians practiced their art. Dancers danced. All, pretty much, were wearing their finest playa outfits, except the many who had shucked theirs off, to cavort nude around the fire.

I became one of these, feeling as free and safe as I have ever felt with no clothes on. The raging fire was cleansing; I could use it to get as hot as I could possibly stand to get, and then cool myself off by stepping out of the circle, into the desert wind.  I knew the trick of keeping low to avoid the most intense heat of the fire. I laid down and scooted as close as I could get. This was a spectacle for some people. Those who did not know better must have thought I was broiling in the intense heat which they could hardly approach. But near the ground, it was cool, and the heat rose off the fire, for the most part missing my prone body.

I also did my manic dance around a smaller portion of the fire, building up from a slow interpretive dance, to my Happy Dance of Ultimate Joy(TM), and of course, as always, and without fail, my chicken dance, or "cock dance", if you will: flapping the wings, bobbing the head, and perhaps a crow or two.  A little while after my dance, a friendly gent approached me and told me that his lady had experienced emotional release from watching me dance. She had come to the temple burn with a recent tragedy to mourn and try to get release from.  As it was, she didn't get it, and was not feeling any better, even somewhat worse, until her boyfriend pointed out to her my carefree happy-dance. This made her laugh, broke the tension, and picked up her mood.  She seemed light-hearted in talking to me. They were both gushing with gratitude for my expression, giving me the endearing title of "chicken-man". I told them that's why I do it: primarily to express my own joy, but also to connect with the joy of others, which may be buried deep within.

My picture of the nudity is fairly discrete, I believe.

And then it was over. When the party ends, it really ends. Everyone gets the heck out of town.

The Teepee and tower to the left in the picture are the Tuna Guys, where I enjoyed a bite of undercooked tuna and a swig of Whiskey, Monday night, post-burn. One of the hold-out camps. 

My kinfolk getting the gear up on the roof for the trip home. Uncle Mike holding up Gerflash, while Nostrildamus facilitates.

 

At least it's now a straight path to the restrooms.

Inside the Porto, an exhortation taken from the bible, to not throw trash and other detritus in there.

Sticker of the Tuna Guys theme camp.

Zendo is a great organization, spearheading much needed harm-reduction efforts based on common sense, at Burning Man and other festivals.

Home, unloaded, and looking a bit weathered. Mostly dusty, but omigod, was I glad to be home!

After the first round of cleanup. Still much recovering to do, but feeling pretty slick.