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| Left to right: Joel as the professor, Gerald as Ahashueros, Esther, Vashti, 2nd row: Michael as Haman, Phil as Mordecai, Judy as a virgin. |
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| Top: 4 "Wise Men" Bottom: The queen's friends, by with whose little bit of help, she gets. |
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Caricatures captured from the Purim Spiel
Long story short: Purim is a Jewish holiday on which Jews act out a play portraying an episode in their history when they were threatened as a people. The temple I used to go to and to which my family and friends still belong, produces every year a "Purimspiel", a play of Purim complete with songs and a theme. My parents and brother are in it. and I watch them perform. This year was the Beatles theme, with all Beatles tunes rewritten for the story. Here are my caricatures of the performers:
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
I'm a Professional Caricature Artist!
I have worked as a professional caricature artist for some 16 years. I am available for hire for all your parties, events, social gatherings, etc.
The base price is $60 per hour, with a minimum of two hours for an event. It may be more if it's long distance, or a peak time like weekends and holidays.
You can contact me at 949 436 3689 or email me at dookieholder@gmail.com
Here's me drawing caricatures for my friends at my last year's birthday party and art show at the studio.
The base price is $60 per hour, with a minimum of two hours for an event. It may be more if it's long distance, or a peak time like weekends and holidays.
You can contact me at 949 436 3689 or email me at dookieholder@gmail.com
Here's me drawing caricatures for my friends at my last year's birthday party and art show at the studio.
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| Add caption |
Monday, February 25, 2013
Be my follower!
Like my stuff? Be my follower! Follow me! I don't mean physically follow me around. Actually, I prefer you to not do that, unless I really really like you. No, no, follow me on blogger in virtual space! Click something or other to the right that makes you my follower, thrall, minion, and part of my growing legion! That will make me feel big and powerful, ultimately fulfilled in life. And in exchange, you get to continue to read my original artwork and writings which you are already doing without having to click "follow". But you'll feel happy! Trust me!
Don't like what you are seeing, or want to see something else? Let me know! I want to know what kinds of art and visuals you'd like to see, and what, if anything, you'd like me to write about. There are videos and audio tracks coming to this blog. What kinds of movies and music do you like to watch and hear, respectively? Holler at me! I am open to hearing and valuing your opinion! Please pardon my incessant exclamation points, but I really want to emphasize my points!
(!)
You can comment on any post or send me a message via email by first clicking on my profile picture to the right.
Thanks for being here!
Don't like what you are seeing, or want to see something else? Let me know! I want to know what kinds of art and visuals you'd like to see, and what, if anything, you'd like me to write about. There are videos and audio tracks coming to this blog. What kinds of movies and music do you like to watch and hear, respectively? Holler at me! I am open to hearing and valuing your opinion! Please pardon my incessant exclamation points, but I really want to emphasize my points!
(!)
You can comment on any post or send me a message via email by first clicking on my profile picture to the right.
Thanks for being here!
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Large Peace Sign on the beach
I like to make large Peace Symbols on the beach.
It starts when I go to Laguna Beach Laughter Club on a Friday or Saturday. At the end of our laughter yoga session, we all send out a wave of positive energy: peace, love, harmony, joy and health. I pick up a downed palm frond and drag it through the sand forming a large circle. I make the best circles when I go fast and don't think about it too much. I trace the circle a few times and then fill in the interior lines. Sometimes I fill in the empty space with something: stripes, circles, birds, faces, hearts, or the word "peace" in different languages.
When people see the symbol, they think, however briefly, about peace. This thought gets sent out and resonates throughout the collective unconscious, increasing the total peace on the earth. The more time and effort I put into my expression of peace, the larger the impact on the recipient.
Peace unto you!
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Future City Drawing
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| FUTURE |
Friday, February 22, 2013
Drug War Cartoon
The drug war has the police chasing their own tail: the massive profits from the black market get funneled to corrupt officers, prosecutors and judges. There is no way of getting ahead of the problem, aside, of course, from permitting a legal regulated market to supplant the bloody illegal market.
Burning Man Stories: Babarist Babylon Part I
2005
Babarist Babylon was the first theme camp I helped build. My second year, we wanted to contribute something, however humble. One of our party members from the previous year, Derrin, while drunk in a bar, came up with the idea of worshipping Babar, the cartoon elephant from the series of childrens' books. This must have been a hilarious idea while three sheets to the wind. But in the sober light of day, it became the theme around which we rallied our efforts. I admit to being reluctant in accepting our new theme. It was just so random, and we could have chosen anything at all. However, our main driver for our party, Damon latched onto the idea and was soon planning to buy matching dashikis with elephant patterns.
The main structure of the camp was to be the large central dome which served as the Babarist Temple. My father, Gerald had discovered the ideal connector for building a simple dome: Star Plates. These are metal plates with grooves and holes perfectly placed to accept the 2X4's and carriage bolts to hold the dome together. Originally intended as chicken coops, the structure is incredibly strong, able to stand up to strong playa winds. We made it as large as the hardware would allow, which gave us a nice living room-sized interior, on which we lay down a tarp and rugs. Damon had picked up some used furniture which made the dome "home": a few couches, a recliner, two commodes, and a floor lamp. We fouled up the generator for the lights by filling it with oil twice, but a flashlight shining on a disco ball spinning on the ceiling gave provided some light.
The cover for the dome was a big project which I spearheaded. The theme being "Psyche" that year, we decided to make the dome look like a brain. I volunteered to design the brain pattern, which I drew in pencil on large canvas drop cloths. Then I created stencils of my trademark rune patterns, which Damon and I placed over the pencil lines and spray-painted black. This took many coats of paint, as the drop cloths just soaked it up. The final effect, after the tarps were wrapped around and stapled to the wood of the dome, was an abstract geometrical representation of a brain-type thing, but this was an achievement for us. Sadly, the pattern ended up being visible only from the inside, because we draped a drab green parachute over the whole thing, but the coolness of the additional shade layer made it worth it. I dubbed it the Brain Dome.
Derrin was the priest or rabbi of our Babarist temple and held two services and a holiday or two. During the services, he would read from any of the dozen or so Babar books which were on hand. It became clear quickly why this particular childrens' book series was chosen: the parallels were hard to miss. Babar is an elephant that becomes a king, and lives in Africa. The desert environment of Africa is similar to the playa: water trucks spray the dry desert roads to keep down the dust, and an illustration depicts the young characters chasing the truck to cool off. One book begins with the old king getting sick from eating a bad mushroom; the lesson from this was: know your source!
Thursday evening, we held a cocktail party in the evening, just as it was getting dark, to assemble our party for the long night of reveling. This was the "Babar-Mitzvah." It was so successful, that the second year, we had a second one on Tuesday, which was "Babarmas." I believe the drink being dispensed was dubbed "Jungle Juice."
Visitors loved our theme and our commitment to it. I was surprised it took so little, that something so random and off-the-wall would end up charming people into staying for hours, becoming friends and visiting regularly. Many burners were fooled by Derrin's dead-pan delivery into believing that Babarism was an actual religion with a following outside of Burning Man. Derrin went so far as to post a Wikipedia entry about Babarism.
In 2006 we brought our theme camp back with some improvements, which I will elaborate on, in a future post.
Babarist Babylon was the first theme camp I helped build. My second year, we wanted to contribute something, however humble. One of our party members from the previous year, Derrin, while drunk in a bar, came up with the idea of worshipping Babar, the cartoon elephant from the series of childrens' books. This must have been a hilarious idea while three sheets to the wind. But in the sober light of day, it became the theme around which we rallied our efforts. I admit to being reluctant in accepting our new theme. It was just so random, and we could have chosen anything at all. However, our main driver for our party, Damon latched onto the idea and was soon planning to buy matching dashikis with elephant patterns.
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| Babarist House of Worship |
The cover for the dome was a big project which I spearheaded. The theme being "Psyche" that year, we decided to make the dome look like a brain. I volunteered to design the brain pattern, which I drew in pencil on large canvas drop cloths. Then I created stencils of my trademark rune patterns, which Damon and I placed over the pencil lines and spray-painted black. This took many coats of paint, as the drop cloths just soaked it up. The final effect, after the tarps were wrapped around and stapled to the wood of the dome, was an abstract geometrical representation of a brain-type thing, but this was an achievement for us. Sadly, the pattern ended up being visible only from the inside, because we draped a drab green parachute over the whole thing, but the coolness of the additional shade layer made it worth it. I dubbed it the Brain Dome.
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| Babarist's Brain Dome interior panorama. Babarists from left to right: Damon (R8), Derrin, Jon |
Derrin was the priest or rabbi of our Babarist temple and held two services and a holiday or two. During the services, he would read from any of the dozen or so Babar books which were on hand. It became clear quickly why this particular childrens' book series was chosen: the parallels were hard to miss. Babar is an elephant that becomes a king, and lives in Africa. The desert environment of Africa is similar to the playa: water trucks spray the dry desert roads to keep down the dust, and an illustration depicts the young characters chasing the truck to cool off. One book begins with the old king getting sick from eating a bad mushroom; the lesson from this was: know your source!
Thursday evening, we held a cocktail party in the evening, just as it was getting dark, to assemble our party for the long night of reveling. This was the "Babar-Mitzvah." It was so successful, that the second year, we had a second one on Tuesday, which was "Babarmas." I believe the drink being dispensed was dubbed "Jungle Juice."
Visitors loved our theme and our commitment to it. I was surprised it took so little, that something so random and off-the-wall would end up charming people into staying for hours, becoming friends and visiting regularly. Many burners were fooled by Derrin's dead-pan delivery into believing that Babarism was an actual religion with a following outside of Burning Man. Derrin went so far as to post a Wikipedia entry about Babarism.
In 2006 we brought our theme camp back with some improvements, which I will elaborate on, in a future post.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Bird of Paradise Acrylic Painting
We had a group painting session at the studio, in which everyone made paintings of flowers using paint knives to lay down thick layers of acrylic paint. Here is mine.
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| Bird of Paradise Acrylic on Stretched Canvas |
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
"Modern-Day Mr. Rogers" Comic Strip
Can anyone today be as open and sensitive as Mr. Rogers was? Well, let's see...
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Burning Man Stories: Clowning on Acid
2009
Wednesday afternoon I'd attended our neighboring camp's clowning class. This was a light-hearted session of mostly improvisation games and performance tips. So I was sort of in the mood to practice this new skill that night. In my dome, I decided to try out the face paints I had brought. This would be my first time using face paint, but I'd seen some others that had done some cool things with it and wanted to jump in. Using a mirror, I blackened my eye sockets to look a bit like a skull, added black lines in the form of a fu manchu running down my chin, some blue lines accentuating my cheekbones, and a yellow line down my nose completed my attempt, going for the look of a kabuki mask. I knew this was very basic and amateurish, especially compared to some of the amazing face and body-painting on the playa, but I felt in the spirit of the event.
I dropped acid and walked out on the town to check out what was happening in my local neighborhood. A little walk around the block revealed some fun theme camps. I was soon coming onto the acid and all up in my head. Acid is cerebral and introspective. I found I could not maintain conversations with people, too distracted by those inside my mind. People were not too put off by my face paint.
Walking along the road toward center camp, I affected an odd look on my face, a creepy over-happy smile, which I maintained as a kind of performance piece. Some people saw this and remarked in hushed tones that I was a clown. This seemed to me to be permission to be the clown, do what clowns do, behave in the silliest of ways, just for a laugh or a reaction. I was feeling self-conscious, unsure of what I'd planned for this evening. I thought about aborting my mission, going back to camp and wiping off the paint with a baby wipe, but I stoically pressed forward.
Arriving in the Center Camp Cafe, I scanned the sparsely populated space. The cafe is crowded during daylight hours, but mellow at night. I moved towards the main crowd, lounging on couches in front of the stage which features musical acts.
With my clown makeup on, and a creepy smirk plastered on my face, I looked at the stage to see a seven or eight-person all-clown band playing hard rock on the stage. It was perfect, like it had been planned. I had no idea, but of course wandered over and danced like a clown to the music. The clowns onstage noticed me and I felt supported in my role I'd chosen for the night. This place gives one a blank social canvas to create any persona, any role or character that one wishes.
The next day, I had a hard time getting all the yellow paint off my nose; it seemed to be caked into my pores. After scrubbing a layer of skin off, it was mostly gone.
Wednesday afternoon I'd attended our neighboring camp's clowning class. This was a light-hearted session of mostly improvisation games and performance tips. So I was sort of in the mood to practice this new skill that night. In my dome, I decided to try out the face paints I had brought. This would be my first time using face paint, but I'd seen some others that had done some cool things with it and wanted to jump in. Using a mirror, I blackened my eye sockets to look a bit like a skull, added black lines in the form of a fu manchu running down my chin, some blue lines accentuating my cheekbones, and a yellow line down my nose completed my attempt, going for the look of a kabuki mask. I knew this was very basic and amateurish, especially compared to some of the amazing face and body-painting on the playa, but I felt in the spirit of the event.
I dropped acid and walked out on the town to check out what was happening in my local neighborhood. A little walk around the block revealed some fun theme camps. I was soon coming onto the acid and all up in my head. Acid is cerebral and introspective. I found I could not maintain conversations with people, too distracted by those inside my mind. People were not too put off by my face paint.
Walking along the road toward center camp, I affected an odd look on my face, a creepy over-happy smile, which I maintained as a kind of performance piece. Some people saw this and remarked in hushed tones that I was a clown. This seemed to me to be permission to be the clown, do what clowns do, behave in the silliest of ways, just for a laugh or a reaction. I was feeling self-conscious, unsure of what I'd planned for this evening. I thought about aborting my mission, going back to camp and wiping off the paint with a baby wipe, but I stoically pressed forward.
Arriving in the Center Camp Cafe, I scanned the sparsely populated space. The cafe is crowded during daylight hours, but mellow at night. I moved towards the main crowd, lounging on couches in front of the stage which features musical acts.
With my clown makeup on, and a creepy smirk plastered on my face, I looked at the stage to see a seven or eight-person all-clown band playing hard rock on the stage. It was perfect, like it had been planned. I had no idea, but of course wandered over and danced like a clown to the music. The clowns onstage noticed me and I felt supported in my role I'd chosen for the night. This place gives one a blank social canvas to create any persona, any role or character that one wishes.
The next day, I had a hard time getting all the yellow paint off my nose; it seemed to be caked into my pores. After scrubbing a layer of skin off, it was mostly gone.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Burning Man Treehouse Vision Sketch
For awhile I was into designing this extravagant Burning Man structure which has yet to be built.
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| Trifurcated Redwood Burning Man structure |
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Elderly Robot Sketch
Robots get old, too. Their new parts are replaced by older ones, wrinkle flanges are added, and a robotic hearing device becomes necessary.
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| Elderly Robot |
Angry Comic Strip
I was angry at my TV's digital recording service when I wrote this one. Glad I now live without a television.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Sketchbook Page 11: legs on a snake
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| Legs on a snake: Zen metaphor for a useless or redundant thing or process. "Do not paint legs on a snake." |
Monday, February 11, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Burning Man Stories: Crude Awakening
2007
"Crude Awakening" was a ninety foot observation tower designed to look like an oil derrick, to fit into the year's theme, the Green Man. The largest climbable structure on the playa, easily seen from a mile away, it beckoned to all. Early in the week, I had trekked out in hopes of ascending it, but each time, it was still undergoing construction and inspection to ensure the safety of all participants, and thus I was kept out. By the time it finally opened on Thursday, I was too busy or tired to make it back. I heard reports from my camp mates about how great the view was, but it was just too late for me, particularly since they planned to burn it Friday night.
My friend and camp mate, Louis was one who enjoyed climbing the tower, and planned to film its burning using a tripod. I walked out with him to enjoy the night's festivities. Having arrived plenty early, we claimed a spot close to the safety perimeter, marked off with posts and string. Louis set up his camera and I mingled and danced among the art cars blaring their music as the crowd began amassing around us.
Soon enough, I had to pee. I had not prepared for this contingency, and finding a bathroom on the open playa was a problem at this point, before they had lit beacons. First I thought I could hold it. The tower was scheduled to burn at 10:00. Little did I know that the exact times of the scheduled burns are as fickle as times usually are on the playa; things start more or less on time, give or take a few hours. I knew if I left Louis I'd never find him again in the crowd, but it was an emergency. So I said goodbye and began the mile-long trek back to camp across the open playa. I kept looking back at the derrick, convinced it would erupt in flames at any moment. About halfway back, the fireworks began: streams of silver and gold sparks shooting into the sky and waving back and forth like sprinklers. I confess that I am less impressed with fireworks than the average person, having seen more than enough at amusement parks, and past Burns. I was intent on catching the big burn, but so far, it had only been fireworks, and the tower stood unscathed. As I approached the Esplanade opposite the tower, I saw a group of theme campers seated on beach chairs waiting for the explosion like everyone else with bored expressions. Sometimes the fireworks displays at Burning Man go a little long, and one starts to think, "Just burn the darn thing already, so we can get back to partying." I really had to go by now, and was caring less and less about the tower. I started the hike up the spoke towards the bank of "blue rooms" and passed a young couple walking a bit slower, the woman of which was complaining loudly of the lateness of the burn. "They said they'd burn it at ten, and THEY'RE LIARS!" I heard. I was mad too, but not as mad as her!
Walking backwards to keep an eye on the tower, I finally reached the port-a-johns and flung open the door of the end one, which was larger with urinal troughs (to accommodate multiple men at once, and reduce the traffic in the other ones). I figured, they've already been shooting off fireworks for a half an hour, so surely they will wait another two minutes, right? I had just begun, when I saw through the cracked door, the ground light up bright orange, and a loud group howl went up from the direction of the tower. Trying feebly to cut off the flow, I pulled up my pants and stumbled out of there. I just barely caught a glimpse of a bit of fuel burning up into the atmosphere, but it was too late to catch the massive fireball that was later reported by Louis to be the biggest explosion he'd ever witnessed. The poor timing had made me miss it, and I was a bit miffed, but ultimately I didn't care any more, and stomped back in to finish what I'd started.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Untitiled Comic Strip
Don't get it? Well, there's not much to get. You've probably never heard of Khalid Sheikh Muhammed, have you? Well, he's a guy. Sheikh is pronounced like "Shake". So there you go.
Sketchbook Page 10: Emotional abstracts
An exercise from Betty Edwards' book "Drawing on the Artist Within". Abstract sketches drawn from strong emotions.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Shnozzy McGee Comic Strip
Hey, Everybody! It's Shnozzy McGee, your favorite cartoon walking nose! Please observe his mundane adventures, won't you?
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| Shnozzy McGee acrylic paint on palm frond |
Sketchbook Page 9: religious art study
Having watched many hours of an art history course on DVD, I wanted to study the shapes and forms underlying the compositions of religious art of the Renaissance. According to the instructor, the figures in the paintings would always be arranged in simple shapes like circles and triangles, and these subtle shapes would add tone and mood to the composition in the viewer's subconscious. Here's my study of this principle:
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| Studies of composition of religious artwork |
Burning Man Stories: Playa Adventures 2005
5 Things That Could Have Killed Me at Burning Man 2005:
The Colossus, Angel of the Apocalypse, Tesla Coil, El Diablo, Cirque du Flambe
My second year of Burning Man, I was still full of wonder and amazement, and eagerly threw myself into every new experience on the playa. Some of these were dangerous, although most or all of that danger was mitigated by precautionary measures. Upon coming home, I drew a comic strip called "5 Things That Could Have Killed Me at Burning Man 2005, but the sketchbook that contained it was in my car which got stolen, and I never got it back. C'est la vie! But anyway, here is the tale:
1.
The Colossus stood in the "keyhole", a wider part of the 6:00 street leading to center camp from the Esplanade. Every year a large interactive art piece filled this public space, and this year's was breathtaking. A large central tower stood on a conical base of steel mesh which housed lights that would shine up at the tower at night. Three arms branched out and bent down, each one suspending a large boulder by a chain, each boulder dangling a rope down almost to the ground. Burners could grab one of the ropes and pull either direction, rotating the top of the tower and three large poles sticking out an an angle from the top.
One of the boulders was perfectly flat and level on its top side. Particularly agile burners could jump from the pyramidal base to grab the edge of the boulder, heave themselves up on top of it, and then proceed to climb up the arm to the top of the sculpture. I saw someone do this, making it look easy and receiving the cheers and accolades of his fellow citizens, so I figured it would be no trouble for me to do the same. In the evening as my dad and I wandered over to the center camp, I stopped him and climbed onto the base to contemplate a jump onto the edge of the flat boulder. People were spinning it at the time, so I had to slowly rotate around the base as I was judging the distance and height. It looked hard, even impossible for me. Standing on my tip toes and reaching out, the rock was still several inches away and I'd have to trust my grip, as well as muster the strength to pull myself up. Someone saw me eyeballing the rock and rallied the others to stop spinning the sculpture, telling them I was about to jump up. This seemed to put additional pressure on me to perform this stunt which, up to then, I had only been considering. But now I was committed, and mustering my strength, I leapt off the base and groped for the edge of the boulder. I barely caught it with the tips of my fingers, but this was not enough, as my body swung forward, pulling my hands with it and dislodging me. I fell about ten feet, according to my dad, onto my side, hitting my head on the grate of the base. This was not as bad as it sounds, as the metal grate had a lot of give to it. I'd had the wind knocked out of me, and as people crowded around me, trying to help me up, I told them I just had to lay there for a little while and to give me space. My dad was worried, of course, but after a few minutes' recovering, I was able to stand and walk away just fine.
2. The Angel of the Apocalypse was a large interactive fire-spewing art installation. I'd never seen art like this, that you could actually climb on, affect, interact with, become part of. An outer ring of 18-foot towers and an inner ring of 12-foot towers spouted fire around a central pile of large twisted logs. Burners sat and stood on these logs, basking in the gas-fed flames emerging from the sculpted steel towers. The entire installation resembled a giant phoenix, with the towers being the tips of the wings, the pile of logs being the bird's body, and nearby, a large metal bird head served as a fire barrel. I enthusiastically jumped onto the logs, which were stacked sparsely enough to allow me to slip in between them, shielding myself from the flames. The flames would shoot from the artfully carved holes in the steel towers, bathing the pile of logs, and the burners in heat and light. I later found out that the buttons that activated the towers were dispersed among the logs, and were operated by participants. There was a DJ playing rock music, and occasionally someone on a loudspeaker would coordinate all the people on the buttons with a count down from five, and all the towers would erupt at once, creating a palpable wall of heat and light. Even with my eyes closed, the light shone through my eyelids, taking on a red hue, and the intense heat convinced me I was near death.
Yet, this was all 100 percent safe, with safety monitors posted around the pile of logs, making sure no drunk or tripping people came to harm.
3. Tesla Coil
One night as my party trekked around some of the back streets, our attention was grabbed by a spurt of lightning up the road. A Tesla coil was running, a metal pole with a large cylindrical on the end, from which arcs of blue lightning coil and wave like streams of water or blood vessels. It's really hard to look away from this raw display of power. The sound is unnerving, a high-pitched buzzing crackling. There was a ring of safety cones with a thin ribbon slung between them, forming a safety perimeter a few feet from the limits of the lightning's dancing fingers. I realized that if I just walked past that perimeter, I would likely die. This was a common feeling on the playa: no safety net, no one responsible for my survival but me. Needless to say I watched the display and when it was over, we wandered on. In later burns, I would witness the performance of Dr. Megavolt, who dances on a truck between two Tesla coils, wearing a full metal suit with a bird cage for a helmet, and holding up florescent light bulbs which the Tesla coil's beams cause to light up, and wooden two-by-four's which the coil would ignite.
4. El Diablo
Traversing the open playa, distractions in every direction, suddenly, one called to us with its booming voice, a few false starts like a massive lighter being flicked. Then a giant torch fired up, shooting a tall spire of jet fuel flame 30 feet in the air. One of our party said it was an afterburner, a plane engine shooting burning jet fuel straight up. Like the Tesla coil, the raw power was palpable. We approached it slowly, but even without a safety perimeter, we were kept back from it by the intense noise and, closer, the heat and light, not to mention the feeling of terror rising up the closer one got. This show lasted a minute or two, sometimes changing colors and letting off sparks as the controllers added different chemicals to the fuel. Then it was over and we howled our joyous appreciation of this amazing spectacle.
5. Cirque du Flambe
I met a friend on the playa and we wandered the Esplanade, the city's "main drag", enjoying the various offerings. We encountered the Cirque du Flambe, taking place right on the open playa, watched by a large semi-circle of a few hundred people. Acts involved playing with and handling lit fireworks. One guy in a fireproof suit stood as a target as others fired Roman candles at him. At some point the MC invited volunteers to come up and participate in the show. One of the principles of burning man is participation, joining in and not being a spectator, and I had an instant desire to jump up and be part of the show. Looking around, it seemed no one else was so motivated, so I raised my hand and came forward. Two other volunteers were coaxed up to the front and we were lined up in front of the audience. They went down the line and we gave our names. The woman in the lingerie and robe was Annie Panty. The young guy introduced himself as Dave (It never fails!). I also gave my name as Dave. First the female MC said we were wearing too much clothing and should take some off. This was in the spirit of the event, and they had us guys take our shirts off. I shimmied my pants down my legs, revealing some very worn briefs, but the hostess had me pull them up again. Then they had us play a bit with a flaming sword. They passed it to the girl who kind of waved it around a bit, then Dave in the middle did a little flourish with it. When it was my turn, I showed off a little, having practiced with swords a few times, and I swung it around my head in a circle. Next, they held up a flaming hoop for us to jump through in turn. As the other volunteers jumped through, the male MC, dressed as a clown, pulled me aside, and told me I could ham it up by doing a little dive and somersault going through the hoop. This of course appealed to me, so when it was my turn I ran a bit and then dove, but on my flip, my foot caught the hoop and pulled it onto me. The flame was not as hot as I'd expected, and the performers quickly grabbed it off me. I had only minor burns on my back, and a few charred spots on my playa pants, which I'd spent hours covering with runes with a sharpie. I didn't mind; the burns added character to the pants. The MC called out a sexy nurse who administered meds in the form of a flask of vodka which I took a pull from. The next thing was a flaming jump rope which performers held and twirled as they encouraged us to jump in. Naturally, Annie Panty was a little more practiced at this and was able to jump for awhile before running out. Dave did his thing. I managed to jump a few times before the rope caught me. I tried again but couldn't keep the rhythm for long. Then they pulled out another flaming rope and it was time for double dutch. After watching the rotating flames for awhile, I sheepishly declined to run in. Having had no practice at double dutch, I could see I'd be quickly engulfed in flaming rope. While the flames were mostly show, not as dangerous as they look, still I felt kind of done, having had my fun.
At some point in the week, a campmate who was giving people playa names, dubbed me "Daredevil Dave", a tag that stuck for a few years, until I became the free radical.
The Colossus, Angel of the Apocalypse, Tesla Coil, El Diablo, Cirque du Flambe
My second year of Burning Man, I was still full of wonder and amazement, and eagerly threw myself into every new experience on the playa. Some of these were dangerous, although most or all of that danger was mitigated by precautionary measures. Upon coming home, I drew a comic strip called "5 Things That Could Have Killed Me at Burning Man 2005, but the sketchbook that contained it was in my car which got stolen, and I never got it back. C'est la vie! But anyway, here is the tale:
1.
The Colossus stood in the "keyhole", a wider part of the 6:00 street leading to center camp from the Esplanade. Every year a large interactive art piece filled this public space, and this year's was breathtaking. A large central tower stood on a conical base of steel mesh which housed lights that would shine up at the tower at night. Three arms branched out and bent down, each one suspending a large boulder by a chain, each boulder dangling a rope down almost to the ground. Burners could grab one of the ropes and pull either direction, rotating the top of the tower and three large poles sticking out an an angle from the top.
One of the boulders was perfectly flat and level on its top side. Particularly agile burners could jump from the pyramidal base to grab the edge of the boulder, heave themselves up on top of it, and then proceed to climb up the arm to the top of the sculpture. I saw someone do this, making it look easy and receiving the cheers and accolades of his fellow citizens, so I figured it would be no trouble for me to do the same. In the evening as my dad and I wandered over to the center camp, I stopped him and climbed onto the base to contemplate a jump onto the edge of the flat boulder. People were spinning it at the time, so I had to slowly rotate around the base as I was judging the distance and height. It looked hard, even impossible for me. Standing on my tip toes and reaching out, the rock was still several inches away and I'd have to trust my grip, as well as muster the strength to pull myself up. Someone saw me eyeballing the rock and rallied the others to stop spinning the sculpture, telling them I was about to jump up. This seemed to put additional pressure on me to perform this stunt which, up to then, I had only been considering. But now I was committed, and mustering my strength, I leapt off the base and groped for the edge of the boulder. I barely caught it with the tips of my fingers, but this was not enough, as my body swung forward, pulling my hands with it and dislodging me. I fell about ten feet, according to my dad, onto my side, hitting my head on the grate of the base. This was not as bad as it sounds, as the metal grate had a lot of give to it. I'd had the wind knocked out of me, and as people crowded around me, trying to help me up, I told them I just had to lay there for a little while and to give me space. My dad was worried, of course, but after a few minutes' recovering, I was able to stand and walk away just fine.
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| Angel of the Apocalypse: Towers |
Yet, this was all 100 percent safe, with safety monitors posted around the pile of logs, making sure no drunk or tripping people came to harm.
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| Angel of the Apocalypse in the background |
3. Tesla Coil
One night as my party trekked around some of the back streets, our attention was grabbed by a spurt of lightning up the road. A Tesla coil was running, a metal pole with a large cylindrical on the end, from which arcs of blue lightning coil and wave like streams of water or blood vessels. It's really hard to look away from this raw display of power. The sound is unnerving, a high-pitched buzzing crackling. There was a ring of safety cones with a thin ribbon slung between them, forming a safety perimeter a few feet from the limits of the lightning's dancing fingers. I realized that if I just walked past that perimeter, I would likely die. This was a common feeling on the playa: no safety net, no one responsible for my survival but me. Needless to say I watched the display and when it was over, we wandered on. In later burns, I would witness the performance of Dr. Megavolt, who dances on a truck between two Tesla coils, wearing a full metal suit with a bird cage for a helmet, and holding up florescent light bulbs which the Tesla coil's beams cause to light up, and wooden two-by-four's which the coil would ignite.
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| El Diablo |
4. El Diablo
Traversing the open playa, distractions in every direction, suddenly, one called to us with its booming voice, a few false starts like a massive lighter being flicked. Then a giant torch fired up, shooting a tall spire of jet fuel flame 30 feet in the air. One of our party said it was an afterburner, a plane engine shooting burning jet fuel straight up. Like the Tesla coil, the raw power was palpable. We approached it slowly, but even without a safety perimeter, we were kept back from it by the intense noise and, closer, the heat and light, not to mention the feeling of terror rising up the closer one got. This show lasted a minute or two, sometimes changing colors and letting off sparks as the controllers added different chemicals to the fuel. Then it was over and we howled our joyous appreciation of this amazing spectacle.
5. Cirque du Flambe
I met a friend on the playa and we wandered the Esplanade, the city's "main drag", enjoying the various offerings. We encountered the Cirque du Flambe, taking place right on the open playa, watched by a large semi-circle of a few hundred people. Acts involved playing with and handling lit fireworks. One guy in a fireproof suit stood as a target as others fired Roman candles at him. At some point the MC invited volunteers to come up and participate in the show. One of the principles of burning man is participation, joining in and not being a spectator, and I had an instant desire to jump up and be part of the show. Looking around, it seemed no one else was so motivated, so I raised my hand and came forward. Two other volunteers were coaxed up to the front and we were lined up in front of the audience. They went down the line and we gave our names. The woman in the lingerie and robe was Annie Panty. The young guy introduced himself as Dave (It never fails!). I also gave my name as Dave. First the female MC said we were wearing too much clothing and should take some off. This was in the spirit of the event, and they had us guys take our shirts off. I shimmied my pants down my legs, revealing some very worn briefs, but the hostess had me pull them up again. Then they had us play a bit with a flaming sword. They passed it to the girl who kind of waved it around a bit, then Dave in the middle did a little flourish with it. When it was my turn, I showed off a little, having practiced with swords a few times, and I swung it around my head in a circle. Next, they held up a flaming hoop for us to jump through in turn. As the other volunteers jumped through, the male MC, dressed as a clown, pulled me aside, and told me I could ham it up by doing a little dive and somersault going through the hoop. This of course appealed to me, so when it was my turn I ran a bit and then dove, but on my flip, my foot caught the hoop and pulled it onto me. The flame was not as hot as I'd expected, and the performers quickly grabbed it off me. I had only minor burns on my back, and a few charred spots on my playa pants, which I'd spent hours covering with runes with a sharpie. I didn't mind; the burns added character to the pants. The MC called out a sexy nurse who administered meds in the form of a flask of vodka which I took a pull from. The next thing was a flaming jump rope which performers held and twirled as they encouraged us to jump in. Naturally, Annie Panty was a little more practiced at this and was able to jump for awhile before running out. Dave did his thing. I managed to jump a few times before the rope caught me. I tried again but couldn't keep the rhythm for long. Then they pulled out another flaming rope and it was time for double dutch. After watching the rotating flames for awhile, I sheepishly declined to run in. Having had no practice at double dutch, I could see I'd be quickly engulfed in flaming rope. While the flames were mostly show, not as dangerous as they look, still I felt kind of done, having had my fun.
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| Sketch: 5 Things that Could Have Killed Me at Burning Man Left side: top: Cirque du Flambe, bottom: The Colossus Right side: top: Angel of the Apocalypse, bottom left: Tesla Coil, bottom right: El Diablo |
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