Each year, 65,000 people spend a week frolicking around one of the most arid and unlivable climates on earth. The Black Rock Desert is a dried lakebed with a high concentration of alkali salts that irritate the skin. Storms kick up unpredictably throughout the days and nights creating clouds of dry sandlike dust that whirls around at speeds of up to 30 miles per hour. Not a single insect has survived there and yet that doesn't deter people from pouring in every summer for the one and only Burning Man.
Google images of the event will bring up photos of people in the most elaborate costumes standing on a seven square mile stretch of desert expanding into the horizon. It's enough to spark some intrigue, but provides no real insight.
So, what is it exactly? It's not a music festival. It's not a crafts fair. It's not a yogi conference or a rave. It's certainly a gathering of all things new age, but for many it's also home; the only place on earth that they can be who they are without reservation. Everything is flipped upside down in this temporary city of unconditional openness, artistic expression and support. It breeds a society that's unfathomably compassionate and overflowing with a creativity that has impressed curators and collectors worldwide.
I'll be there next week to see it for myself. When I return, Backpacktress will take you there.
No comments:
Post a Comment