Travel With Reason

The 9/11 anniversary weekend seems a good time to write about fallen buildings, memorials, remembering and celebrating those we have lost. This is my third essay about the wildly artistic and audacious Temple that is constructed annually at Burning Man (and designed to be burned in memoriam at the end of the festival week). Its design varies widely each year, and while the experience of a visit is much the same, I have found that my appreciation for it broadens and deepens with each year. [Text and photos below by Ron Reason] 

* * *

[Black Rock City, Nevada, August 30, 2011] Surrounded by 250 to 300 tons of plywood, in the middle of the Nevada desert, artfully constructed into a compound of temples designed to be appreciated, and to vanish, within one week, I am awestruck by one thought: I’ve visited the Taj Mahal, the Great Pyramids, the Wailing (Western) Wall, and Ground Zero, the world’s most renowned monuments to loss, love and remembrance, spanning centuries. But none of those places aroused anywhere near the emotion that wells up for me at this temporary Temple each year, and in every recollection afterward. It sounds a bit absurd. How can this be?

Like the rest of Burning Man, it’s nearly impossible to really explain what the Temple experience is and how it works. As I’ve written here before, the Temple is a cornerstone of the festival experience (at least for me).

With this year’s Burning Man theme being “Rites of Passage,” and this Temple of Transition could not have been a better fit: A series of five 58-foot-high outer temples, and one 120-foot-high inner temple, connected by 60-foot-long walkways (designed, apparently, to be a little strange and tricky to traverse – like parts of life itself – but the rewards at either end, breathtaking). Basically, this place was architectural poetry. (This gorgeous, quick animated 3D fly-through on YouTube gives you a hint.)

The five smaller, outer towers represented Birth, Growth, Union, Decay and Death. The central tower, Gratitude. (I had to ask a volunteer early in the week what each building stood for – they seemed to make a point not to label them on site – interesting challenge, as in life, to come to these realizations on one’s own. Where are these rites of passage? How do I get to/through them?) Gratitude – the anchor of everything, what everything comes back to, even Decay and Death. A powerful meditation. In deciding where to leave my own private memorial, as if really mattered where, I chose this tower.

As is the case every year, festival attendees quickly fill up almost every square inch of real estate on the buildings with inscriptions, mementos, artwork, poetry. Some are simple and impromptu Read more

“This sure doesn’t look like a temple. And it’s not blowing me away like the last one I experienced here,” during my first Burn in 2008.

Those were my first thoughts as I bicycled up to Temple of Flux, this year’s spiritual destination/installation at Burning Man. (Cynical and judgmental, now that I think about it, but I was fresh to the playa from the real world, and well, lesson learned.) But the site was basically several massive mountains of plywood, mostly looking, quite frankly, like planks and scraps blown in with the latest sandstorm,  and created a far different impact than the elegant, imposing multi-story structures of Burning Men past. Like 2008′s Basura Sagrada (which I lovingly wrote about here and commemorated in photos here), past temples often projected more of a formal “tah-dah!” formal spiritual vibe, especially on one’s first approach.

But throwing expectations off-kilter seemed exactly the idea for this year’s model. Even though the theme of this year’s Burn was Metropolis, and many art installations played off the notion of city-making, the creators of Flux went the opposite direction, creating something organic and low-slung that ended up being a fantastic breath of fresh air. Surprisingly – once one became immersed in Flux – the result was as emotionally impactful as, if not moreso than, previous efforts.

Flux was impressive, fantastic, man-made (perhaps woman-made should take precedence here?) and truly of the earth. And once the 45,000 residents of Black Rock City got their hands on it, it delivered all the emotional and spiritual wallop of temples past.

From the local environment, the structure – always intended to be burned at the end of the week, as The Man and many other installations are – took cues from the dark distant mountains of the Black Rock Desert. From the outside world, Flux also recalled the immersive flow of a Richard Serra sculpture, the informal whimsy of a Frank Gehry band shell or museum, and (God forgive me) maybe even a gigantic hat by Philip Treacy for Lady Gaga. Read more

[NAIROBI, Kenya] With a little bit of trepidation I made my fifth visit or so to this city’s Kibera slum – a “city within a city” of an estimated 600,000 to 1 million residents living in very challenging conditions – to check up on the state of The Hope Library. The project was started as an audacious dream after my first visit here, a casual daylong tour by a resident (Reuters photographer Noor Khamis) who introduced me to many facets of life here, including some folks who made it know how great was their desire for books, and how dire was their need. (Read original blog post of that encounter here.)

Sure, I’d returned six months ago and seen a church classroom full of kids enjoying our first shipment of books (about 1,200 at that time), but they were mostly picture books and it was a bit of a photo op. The books were kept in a small corner of a temporary space in the St. George Orthodox Church, but the gratitude of the adults and the enthusiasm of the kids pushed me on, to months of cajoling books out of my friends, as well as donations for shipping and other needs.

So began Phase II. In all, I estimate my social network (mainly via Facebook) accounted for about 2,000 more books (carefully selected to feature categories of most value to this community), as well as donations of about $2,750, to help defray shipping and other costs. (Almost all the books were donated, but it’s extremely expensive to ship them. I lucked out by connecting with American Friends of Kenya, and for a much reduced cost, piggybacked many boxes on a shipping container they successfully sent from the States to Kenya last month.)

I couldn’t thank my Facebook crowd enough when I visited today and saw that the enthusiasm for, and commitment toward, The Hope Library had multiplied by 100 in the past six months. Read more

Not content to just pay homage at the somber, underground Holocaust Memorial in Berlin, a group of schoolkids decides to play hide-and-seek among the monolithic stone structures on the surface. This is from a series of images that was later shown in our 2009 group exhibit with Firebelly Design.

[TEL AVIV, 12 June 09] One of the joys of my travels – or perhaps anyone’s – is the serendipity of happening on the unusual, surprising, inspiring, or fun. All four combined when I was able to witness the weddings of five gay couples on the beach in Tel Aviv, part of the city’s month-long Pride festival. An extra bonus was having my photos published in the magazine, Time Out Tel Aviv. (See published spread here, in Hebrew!)

Read more

[Black Rock City, Nevada] I went on a trip. Or was it a dream? On this trip-dream, I pitched a small tent in the middle of a harsh desert. Suddenly, for one week only, 50,000 people appeared from nowhere, to join me. Some were in tents, others in RVs, and many more in elaborate, bedouin-style camps – strewn with couches, rugs, pillows, hammocks, a carpeted merry-go-round, trucked thousands of miles across the world for … what, exactly?

In huge circus tents, trapeze artists juggle flames. At midnight you stumble across a ballet stage where a troupe of 20 pirouettes around an open, arid Carnegie Hall. (Want some free ballet slippers? Try some on and take them home.) A pyrotechnic rock opera is staged on a Mayan pyramid. There’s a roller disco, a mini-golf course, costume shops – why not? You need a costume or two, right? Huge outdoor discos fill with revelers, seemingly round the clock; drinks are free to those who bring a cup, and they groove to world-class DJs, caring not that the floor might be just hard desert dust, or even the deck of a 3-story, animatronic, flame-throwing rubber ducky.

A Thunderdome appears, directly out of Mad Max. (Yes, fights take place at night, as  cheering crowds clamor atop the structure. I didn’t get the night shot I wanted but here’s a cool one I found on Flickr.) Like sets from the Mel Gibson trilogy, Black Rock City (the name of this place that appears only one week a year) is part ragtag kingdom, part psychedelic slum. You are momentarily on another planet. But it’s not just post-apocalypse Australia. Tattooine, maybe? Jabba’s sail barge or a landspeeder or a Jawa sand crawler could come gliding by at any moment and no one would bat an eye … a cantina band could strike up an alien tune. But this Star Wars is a galaxy far, far away, as guest-directed by Dr. Seuss, Felini, Cecil B DeMille, Deepak Chopra and Greenpeace. It’s Cirque du Soleil meets Outward Bound for a Macy’s parade at the Playboy mansion.

Thousands are on bikes, around the clock, but more exotic vehicles steal the show. Elaborate, colorful, customized scooters, cars, lawn mowers, buses, and semis are pimped out as fire-spouting dragons, ducks, sea anemones, spacecraft. Many of them double as party barges, some multi-level. A half-size replica of a 16th-century Spanish galleon comes cruising across the desert at night, floating, ghostly, illuminated, as does a replica of the Golden Gate Bridge. Want a further surprise? Open the door to one and a full-on jazz band is in full swing. They maneuver about the open desert outside the city proper,  Read more

[Black Rock City, Nevada] Among my favorite sights and sensations of Burning Man 2008 was one of the showpiece art installations, the Basura Sagrada temple. Each year at Burning Man, a temple is constructed as a work of art and architecture and memorial, where the festival participants (or “citizens,” now numbering about 50,000) leave inscriptions and mementos of loved ones lost. The temple, as with all of the art on display in this vast desert, comes and vanishes in a week. This spectacle, like the Burning Man itself, goes down in a blaze of glory and solemnity at week’s end.

Hard to imagine that this construction of recycled tin cans, bottle caps, wood and cardboard and wire can move one to tears (NOT attractive or comfortable while wearing swim goggles and face mask to ward off sandstorms!). But that’s exactly what this place did – much more moving, in its odd way, than the Taj Mahal that I visited exactly a year ago in Agra, India. Perhaps it’s the rawness, the immediacy, Read more

As someone who decided only 3 days before the event to attend Burning Man 2008, I feel wholly unqualified to offer advice to future first-timers. So, here you go:

1. So you’re an art groupie or fan of oddball vacations in desolate locations. Great. If you think you can handle the daytime heat, nighttime chill, and most of all, sandstorms, proceed … with caution.
2. Take care to read EVERY bit of advice on the first-timers guide available on the Burning Man site. The 2008 version, at least, is here.
3. Don’t overpack. I stressed about it too much in the several days preceding and in the end, didn’t use half the clothes or costumes I took with. Think one or two outfits for potential nighttime chill (though we had very mild evenings -never cold) and really, not much for daytime. Like, a sarong or two could last you most of the week – seriously. And at least four camps had costume shops Read more

[Lagos, Nigeria] I’m typically fraught with anxiety when passing through any kind of passport control or security checkpoint in a third-world country. I’ve written earlier about the High Commission officer who eyed my temporary visa photo, taken just the night before, with great suspicion and said: “this looks terrible.” I seriously thought the photo was an improvement over my permanent passport shot which sports a 3-day beard and a general air of “keep an eye on this guy.”

But bag inspections at X-ray stations always give me a special kind of nerves. What did I pack and forget about that will embarrass us all when they paw through it? What item innocuous to me will arouse an interrogation?

Take tonight in Lagos. I thought I was home free since my friend and I were being personally whisked through almost all of the airport’s chaotic check-in and boarding procedure. (He’s one of the top 15 fliers in the world on this airline, and one of only 6 on an elite advisory board whom they treat like royalty.) But no. One of my carry-ons was a relatively ratty shopping bag from two countries ago, in which I had wrapped a piece of “art” in a hooded sweatshirt. It raised flags in the X-ray scanner. Read more

[Lagos, Nigeria] OK people, my off-time in Africa isn’t all spent on safari or touring the slums. Last night, at an elegant cocktail party with jazz pianists and singers, fabulous food and champagne, I chatted up Mo Abudu, the “Oprah of West Africa” (in yellow, at right, photo below). She’s for real – visit this site after you leave this post!

Read more