One of the most interesting aspects of Burning Man’s open-endedness is the ways in
which it has allowed participants to hybridize new and ancient forms of technique,
technology, or ritual. The effigy of the Man blends past and future, science and
religion, high technology and the primal: a gigantic 50-foot tall figure, reminiscent
of the statuary and sanctuary of old times, a symbol of humanity raised up from the
ground to reach the sky. He is constructed of wood, of trees, of ground, of nature,
combined with technological contraptions harnessing fire and electronics, with two
brilliant colors of neon tubing. The Man hums with electricity and is in this sense
alive. Before being burned, he will raise his hands skyward, exhorting the crowd,
possessing motion. He is duplicated every year. Like the seasons, like the sun, like
life itself, he returns from the fire and dust, resurrected. The ritual and the ritualists
vivify him.
As the time for the burning draws closer, a wild spectacle is enacted. The stage is
filled with fire-twirlers. Masses of drummers unite in a thrumming, pounding,
amplified throb of rhythm. Glowing decorations and desert-wear finery abound as
the onlookers gather to celebrate the epiphanic and eponymous moment of the
gathering. Orbs of fire and gigantic flamethrowers pour heat into the quickly
cooling night air. Screams of joy and thrills of awe ring out. Dozens upon dozens of
twirlers and drummers perform their hearts out, and the effects are nothing short of
hypnotic. The exuberant crowd presses in upon you from every side. Just like it
does at a rock concert, the scent of ritual burnings and smoking fills the air.
Cameras are everywhere. Documentaries are filmed. Radio shows and webcasts
broadcast the event live.
As the crowd gasps, the Man’s arms are raised skyward. He is readied to be
burned. As the tension mounts, the Man is set ablaze. Filled with pyrotechnics, he
blasts from inside and shoots out flame, expressing (for us) his mortality, his
sacrificial power, the value of the moment, of this moment, of all moments. Fire
becomes the central all-consuming symbol of the moment, a symbol that stands for
both the technological and the primitive, heavily invested with linkages to central
social concepts, from community to technology. The Man falls, his essence rising
finally to the sky in a heaving puff of smoke. He is a tired idol, a toppled god. After
the crashing descent of his remains, the audience is then free to rush around his fire,
to throw their own artworks and creations into it, to circle it and drum, sing, and
dance orgiastically until the dawn—and, of course, to debate the ever changing
meaning of it all, as they await the rising of the Man from these ashes in the coming
year.
Like many elements of post-rave, the burning of the Man opens up opportunities
to embody a popular dance orgiasm facilitated by modern technologies. It also
stands as a fiery experiential canvas on which new ideologies and new selves are
written, perhaps to be blown away like dust, perhaps to be sealed in stone. For the
purposes of this exploration, the giant Man burning ritual opens up opportunities to
discuss the relevance of Neo-Pagan interpretation of the events, and to use these to
open up discussions of techno-paganism.
EXPLORING THE SACRED AT BURNING MAN 291