Burning Man is a cultural institution in Nevada. And this year, it celebrates its 40th anniversary.
What began on a San Francisco beach with 20 people has become a week-long, 80,000-strong event at the Black Rock Desert — aka the playa — in Northern Nevada, its home since 1990. The milestone gathering this year starts on August 30 and ends September 7.
Contrary to popular belief, Burning Man is not a festival. It's a pop-up city that centers art, interactions, and self-reliance. It has spawned regional events and community groups all over the world, including in Reno and Las Vegas.
Its economic impact on Northern Nevada is estimated at more than 60-million-dollars a year, mostly felt in Washoe County. In Gerlach — where, among other things, Burning Man keeps an office and a staging area for event infrastructure — the event and group that runs it is the primary economic driver.
The relationship between the state and Burning Man has been equally beneficial. "[Nevada] is the place that has a great playa, has a great attitude, and Northern Nevada has great economic opportunity for us to be building the event," said Marian Goodell, CEO of the Burning Man Project, which produces the annual event. "So we're really proud of Nevada being our home."
The event alone would be a feather in the cap of Nevada's cultural landscape; it's one of the largest art-centric gatherings in the country. But its impact goes beyond the playa. It ranges from the aesthetic and wardrobe of the burners, now recognizable to much of the culture at large, to the often ornate and playful art cars that are now featured in the state's various parades and attractions, to the large-scale sculptures that end up in tourist and high-traffic areas of Las Vegas and Reno.
Regarding the latter, many of the state's most iconic public art works debuted on the playa, such as the Space Whale in downtown Reno, to Big Rig Jig and the fire-spewing Mantis on East Fremont Street in Las Vegas. Reno in particular has installed a lot of available Burning Man sculptures, which has given the downtown area in particular added character, said Kris Vagner, managing editor of Reno News & Review and longtime arts and culture reporter for the state.
"This is an interesting thing. [Reno] city officials are interested in having a lot of public art, and there's only so much budget for this. Burning Man art is kind of a bargain. There is a lot of it here." And this is where the proximity of the event plays a big role. "If you're an artist and you've built a giant steel structure for people to climb on at Burning Man," added Vagner, "it's it's possible that it may end up languishing in a warehouse somewhere in Empire or Sparks or something, and you're not sure what to do with it next. So that affects the pipeline of public art that we can access."
The cultural impact of Burning Man isn't just artistic or visual — it's also civilizing. There's also the natural exchange that happens between Nevadans, other Americans, and the international attendees in an event born out of co-founder Larry Harvey's interests in community-building and spontaneous interactions.
"Twenty percent of the people come internationally," said Goodell. "And I think, from a cultural standpoint, it's a two-way street for the folks in Nevada, whether it's Las Vegas, whether it's Reno, whether it's Elko, that there are people from different parts of the country, different parts of the world, coming and having conversations. They're seeing one another. They're in cafes, and it bridges the questions we have and the fears that we have about other people. So being in an environment that allows us to say hello and be ourselves and be a little bit different empowers everybody to feel hope and less fear."
That interconnection and cooperative activity — especially as it pertains to the artistic component of the event and the culture sprung from it — may be the most unspoken outgrowth of Burning Man. And it's leaving an imprint on cities like Reno, just two hours south of Black Rock Desert, and downtown Las Vegas, the revitalization of which is partly inspired by the ethos of the enduring annual gathering up north.
"I think that we have seen a lot of interesting instances of people working together, like collaborating to try to make something big happen, and that has started to feel like not a Burning Man thing, but a Reno thing, like a Reno creative world thing," said Vagner. "Who knows if the festival will go on forever, but I bet that spirit of collaboration that came from this event will linger here indefinitely to forever."
Guests: Marian Goodell, CEO, Burning Man Project; Kris Vagner, managing editor, Reno News & Review
