Burning Man draws 28,000 free spirits to Nevada desert

Martin Griffith

Thursday, Aug. 31, 2000 | 5 a.m.

BLACK ROCK DESERT, Nev. - Wearing nothing but a hat and a few body rings as he takes his bike out for a spin, Steve Hosking is enjoying his annual pilgrimage to northern Nevada's high desert.

It's the third straight year he has left Santa Cruz, Calif., to let his hair down at the Burning Man counterculture festival on the Black Rock Desert 120 miles north of Reno - and he's not alone. Nine co-workers at his Silicon Valley high-tech firm are joining him this year.

"Trying to describe Burning Man to someone who hasn't been here is kind of like describing sex to someone who hasn't had sex. It's hard to do," said the 47-year-old electrical engineer who asked that his employer not be identified.

"It's the one place on the planet where you can express yourself freely and not get arrested. It's an insane outpouring of creativity and you see people doing every damn thing imaginable. Unlike society, people here accept the uniqueness of others."

Hosking is among 28,000 techies, artists, spiritualists, old hippies and rave regulars who are expected to converge on the sprawling desert for the 15th annual Burning Man.

The weeklong celebration on the dry lake bed surrounded by stark mountains ends Saturday night with the ceremonial torching of a 52-foot-high wooden effigy of a man for whom the event is named.

Artists will toss their paintings, sculptures and other creations onto the raging bonfire to reinforce the celebration of art for art's sake.

The Mardis Gras-like celebration combines wilderness camping and an eclectic mix of art and music in a surreal 5-square-mile encampment known as Black Rock City.

Drug sales are strictly forbidden but drug use is tolerated in what is among Nevada's five largest cities for the week. Clothing is optional.

Participants disagree with some locals and environmentalists who say the the event has become too big and commercial.

During the 1990s, the event doubled in size nearly every year. Tickets now cost as much as $250 a head.

The festival operates on a $3.4 million budget under the for-profit Black Rock City LLC headed by event founder Larry Harvey of San Francisco.

"This is my fourth year at Burning Man and I don't see where the size and ticket prices have spoiled it," said Ohio Knox, 53, an Albuquerque, N.M., construction superintendent.

"I'm still amazed by how creative the art is. There's a tremendous amount of openness and generosity that you don't find a lot of places. You can be who you are or who you want to be. You don't have to hide beneath a facade out here."

Daniella Irish, 18, a waitress in Estes Park, Colo., said the event's offbeat art and entertainment would draw her back to Burning Man for a third time next summer.

"It's still a wonderful escape for a week," she said. "Society can be cold and impersonal, but it's the opposite out here. When people back home ask me about it I tell them, 'It's a lot of naked people playing with fire and having a lot of fun."'

Participants rave about the event's creativity, citing such draws as fire-belching sculptures, a 75-foot-long seesaw and Dr. MegaVolt's lightning-producing show.

Among the festival's theme camps and businesses are a home that parodies television's "Leave It To Beaver" and the Costco Soulmate Trading Outlet where participants can line up dates.

Still other attractions include the Full Monty Carlo Barter Casino, the Black Rock City Wedding Chapel and Midget Dance Floor, the Body Hair Barber Shop and the Dirty Liver Lounge.

Activities include full body painting and group bike rides for both sexes in women's lingerie. And all participants have been invited to take part in a group nude shot.

"It's creativity run amok," said a 36-year-old Phoenix computer consultant who would only identify herself as Amy.

"I work in corporate America and I don't have a creative outlet at work. I love the spontaneity and craziness of it all," added Amy, who was wearing only a few splotches of silver body paint.

But her fully clothed boyfriend, Charles, a 33-year-old Phoenix electrical engineer, expressed concerns over the festival's future.

"It's definitely changing with the bigger crowds and higher ticket prices," he said. "I wish I could keep it my small party, but I don't think that can happen."