|
Originally posted at arashafshar.substack.com/p/sometimes-just-censored-it
May 10, 2024 Possibly due to the 13 years it took to bring me into the world after my brother, a feeling I've maintained about my childhood has been one of my parents’ overprotectiveness. I feel like any attempt I made at taking risks was responded with aversion and panic. One of the ways in which this sheltered upbringing manifested itself in my adulthood was a constant need for reassurance with anything that involved figuring out something with my hands and tools. "Is this ok? Am I doing this right? Should I be using this screwdriver or this other one?" For the majority of my life, I was petrified of doing something incorrectly so I'd just simply not even try. This realization was one of many I had at my first Burning Man. The reason I was able to easily shrug off the rainstorms of 2024's Mud Man was that my very first Burning Man was also one marked with lots of rain. My first one was the year where folks were stuck in their cars out on Gate Road for over 24 hours before even being able to get into the event. For those of us early access pass holders already inside, we were figuring out how to make due with the messed up roads we'd have to deal with for the rest of the week. Inside our camp, I'd watch my campmate, Boone, hammering and fixing things. Boone's human form is, in oh so many ways, the opposite of mine. He is naturally powerful and seems to have grown straight out of the Earth. So far as I've surmised, he can build and fix pretty much anything. Without him knowing so, I spent a lot of my first burn asking him for permission to do things. On one occasion, as he was hammering down some hardened playa mud around camp, I asked if it would be helpful to utilize one tool over another. This inquiry was responded with snark by he and his partner, which lead me to a huge realization. By not trying to do it myself and constantly asking, I was giving the impression that I was sitting around and giving orders. I was mortified that that's how I was coming off. So I started giving myself permission to do things wrong and be ok with being corrected. To try it first rather than always be asking if I’m allowed to. And so it was that I began internalizing Burning Man's most important lesson: Try. In this environment and with these people, it's ok to fuck up. We're all kind of a mess anyway. Give it a swing and if it's not perfect, we'll have a great story to share over a beer later. At one point, while Boone was teaching me how to jerry-rig some part of our shade structure, I noticed we were using metallic connectors that didn't match the poles. I asked if we're doing this right. "Sometimes just fuck it," he responded. Over the past decade, it's safe for me to say that I repeat those words to myself at least two or three time a week. When I get in my head about something being perfect, when I find myself obsessing about the most efficient way to carry some heavy things up the stairs, if I'm nitpicking how to strap something down or if I'm editing a podcast or a photo and I catch myself fixating on some collection of pixels… When faced with these little idiosyncrasies, I'll just repeat Boone’s words to myself: Sometimes just fuck it. I’ll just finish the thing and move on. Sometimes done is better than perfect. Today I hit publish on episode 150 of Burner Podcast. Every previous episode has been an improved interview and this one is my first time releasing a fully scripted piece of audio. As I listened to the final mp3 one last time, multiple things yelled out at me. There is a segment where I touch on my complicated relationship with my Iranian-American community and I feel like I dropped the ball on closing the loop, so it comes off as if I have nothing positive at all to say about my heritage. In another segment, I noted trailing off a bit too long on an analogy which I'm not sure I brought back around to the topic at hand in a sensical manner, so I worried that it might seem to some as if I totally randomly brought up my profession for no reason. Additionally, even though I'm pretty sure every story shared and every person mentioned has been shared and referenced on many previous episodes, it feels as if there is an added weight due to this episode having a pre-formatted narrative structure, even if said structure was thrown together only a day before recording. "It's not like I'm publishing an audiobook," I had to keep reminding myself. It is simply another episode of the show I've already been doing - just a little spiced up. With the final nudge of one final thumbs up from my very own organizational psychologist PHD on infinite retainer, I decided to hold my nose and take the leap. Sometimes just fuck it. It won't be absolutely perfect. It has holes. It may poke some people the wrong way. But sometimes just fuck it. You can't know how a thing will change once its out there in the world until you let it go. This episode is, to some extent, a bit of a test balloon. I really enjoyed doing it. It took a lot longer but I think the sum of the parts, a combination of writing and recording, was more artistically satisfying than the individual components on their own. I'm eager to go deeper into this process. This is to say, if you're digging it, keep an ear out for the forthcoming Yesterday I Was Clever Podcast, where I'll be doing more scripted audio things. burnerpodcast.com/previous-episodes/150
0 Comments
 markfromson.com | @autobiographica 2) “It looks like Big Money/ Turn Key Camp” [True & False]
This was a massive project. Professional equipment of this caliber is expensive. The investment was sizable. We took no art grant money from the org. All funding came from the founders who just wanted to do something EPIC. And this is the art that we do. Is it a little aesthetically different from other art at burning man? Of course. I love the creativity and resourcefulness of burners making really fun stuff out of really interesting elements. But, nothing I saw out here (and I’m fairly confident ever) has been this big. We are professional riggers and stage designers and techs and artists. This is our art. Something this big needs to be done professionally to be safe. This piece was engineer stamped to withstand 150mph wind gusts. We wanted to go big AND we wanted it to be safe. This is what we love and what we do. We are NOT a turn key camp. We had a home base support camp with half of our crew being Eye techs, and the other half handling support camp, making sure we were all housed and fed and showered and loved. Everyone here (only about 60 ppl) worked their fucking asses off. I personally arrived on Tuesday the 20th. We worked for a solid 8 days straight day and night. In truth, we needed at least double the amount of techs and riggers. Everyone we did have was extremely talented and knowledgeable in their respective disciplines. And everyone gave it their all. Unfortunately we were not able to accomplish the complete realization of the eye. At some point we collectively decided to stop Working Man and start Burning Man. The Eye Lashes and Iris were installed with LED tape that we weren’t able to finish. There was going to be a podium out front with the interactive portion of the art piece where users were going to be able to talk to the eye via a snarky version of ChatGPT as well as a touch display to interact with the visuals and pyro and LED. Unfortunately we were not able to complete that execution. But that just means it will be more fun next time we deploy it. Part of the reason we were behind was the weather. It was a difficult build week. Another reason was that the org took a while to approve us which delayed the start of fabrication. The teams were working tirelessly before we got out here creating custom control interfaces, fabricating the lashes, fabricating the custom rigging pieces we needed to execute the construction. We were doing additional fabrication on playa. Welding aluminum at the trash fence. Wiring the LED tape. Working out the kinks in the pyro control system. These are some of the most talented individuals I have ever worked with. Everyone gave their all. 3) “The sound system was awful” [Get Absolutely Fucked] Were there some audio difficulties during the Monolink set? Yes. Shit happens. It happens on tour, it happens at every level and scale of live events. That’s life. But when it was working, that shit was BANGING. we had a PK Trinity rig on the eye. And when art cars came to link up, we tied everyone’s sound systems together. IMO Friday night with Ice Berg and Long Feng sounded immaculate. The bass was full but I didn’t feel the need to wear my ear plugs. 4) “DPW was pissed and everyone hated it” [True / False] It seemed that there was a bit of miscommunication between the ppl at the top and the ppl in the middle. There were ppl from artery DPW that came out to tell us that we were violating open playa sound rules. But when pressed, those rules are really quite vague. The only thing I could think of as a good reason was the possibility of sound bleed going towards the city and disrupting the Temple. However, it was not that loud. When I got to the deep playa portos, you could barely hear it. There was more sound pollution from the other art cars roving closer to the city than there was from us. We received direct and positive affirmation of our art from many people. Apart from the crowds at the events, many individuals personally came by to share how amazed and thankful they were for our contribution. Literal actual words were “This is exactly what burning man needed” a fresh contribution that challenges the rules in the name of epic art. Love it or hate it, we came to give it our all. And after all that physical labor and work, I still gave it my all on the dance floor, ours and others. This has been a life changing experience for me and i am looking forward to bring my new found presence and confidence into the default world to continue spreading my light. You have to give the magic to receive the magic. Fuck your burn. Love, Almost reddit.com/user/kclarkmusic By Elliot C. Williams. As seen on WAMU 88.5, NPR station serving the greater Washington D.C. area. “You can eat at my table, you can sleep under my roof,” Quest says. “I’m not gonna leave somebody in that environment without letting them know they’re nurtured and loved.” Pop over to read the full piece here.   Happy Tuesday! In case you missed it, Tuesday is a Burner Holiday. It is celebrated across the Burnerverse by donning one of our culture’s most traditional and storied garments; the frothy and fabulous confection of frill known as the Tutu. Tutu Tuesday embodies some of the best things about Burning Man. Play, sparkles, butt cheeks and inclusivity. Invented in 1881 to expose and display the previously hidden ankles of ballet dancers, the tutu was born scandalous. It grew up at the end of the stiff and proper Victorian age, it’s fine netting made possible by advancements of the industrial revolution, and it’s style by the decline of moral virtue in the west. The first tutu was worn by Marie Taglioni dancing as the lead in the Paris Opera ballet’s production of “La Sylphide”. This was one of the first times a dancer had performed an entire ballet on pointe, and her father, who choreographed the ballet and approved the shortened skirt, wanted everyone to be able to see Marie’s intricate and impressive footwork. Some were scandalized, some tantalized, but the cloud like vision Marie presented quickly became the favored look for all Prima Donna Ballerinas. Within a decade, the tutu’s ankle revelations had moved up and over the knee, and were headed for the hipbone, changing ballet and front row seating forever. As with any new technology, the tutu was both wildly popular and unexpectedly perilous. By it’s nature it floated out and around the dancer, and was made of layers and layers of net and tulle which dancers often starched with water and flour and anything else they could think of to make the skirts stand out even more. At the time stage lights were actually gas lamps set up at the front of the stage. The flickering firelight was romantic and created a hypnotic shadow play of the dancers every move, something any burner who has seen a large art piece go up in flames can attest to. However, the fluttering dancers often brought their wick like skirts quite close to the audience, and from the mid to the late 1800’s, being a ballet dancer was one of the most dangerous professions available. There were so many tragic instances of ballerinas going up in flames that the King of France ordered dance costumes to be treated with flame retardant. Typical of most of the artists I know, many dancers refused the safety measures because the fire retardants of the time made the costumes dull and ugly. Beauty and Danger! Safety third. Over time the tutu seemed to settle down. Electric lighting ended the worry of burning to death for one’s art, and a more open minded society accepted even the shortest of dancing skirts. The tutu began to be seen in children’s wardrobes as a part of their make believe costumes. It may have seemed that the tutu was finished making history. Not So. Pride was coming. Some of my favorite moments in life have taken place at a Pride parade. My first was in 2012, 42 years after the first Pride was celebrated in New York City to commemorate the infamous Stonewall riots. I remember being astonished and delighted at the sheer volume of human creativity in the streets. The Colors! The Costumes! There were people on stilts, acrobats handspringing down the street! There were babies in rainbow flags, and glamorous elders in glitter and velvet wheelchairs. I saw a boy in gold glitter booty shorts down on one knee proposing to another on top of a Freddie Mercury Float. Everyone seemed to be high on love. And there were Tutus Everywhere. The Pride community liberated the Tutu from it’s traditional gender norms. There were still dancing girls in rainbow tutus, but there were also biker dudes and fabulous Queens, eight year old boys and pink haired grandaddies. In some fundamental way, the tutu had become a part of insisting on radical self expression. It had joined the ranks of the joyful subversive. LQBTQ Activist Palav Patankar states “A pride march gets celebrated with color, costumes, themes and sometimes dress codes that border on the bizarre. The idea is to highlight the fact that we as a human race have a natural tendency to judge and discriminate and hate people on the way people look, the color of their skin, race and sexual orientation," he says. The Pride Parade is about challenging Culture, about opening the mind to how beautiful, hilarious, strange and ecstatic individual expression can be when it isn’t afraid. This is one of the fundamental pieces to Burning Man culture. On Playa, we get to see what we might be if we weren’t afraid. And so of course, in the natural order of things, one fine day, someone looked at a tutu and thought “This thing is Perfect for Burning Man.” The tutu found itself riding along, in some overly stuffed suitcase bouncing down the track past Gerlach. Who can know who brought the first one into the dust? What we do know is that the Tutu met Burning Man and the rest is history. Today the tutu graces the hips of every kind of burner, showcasing hairy thighs, and bejewelled belly buttons alike, gleefully collaborating with each of us as we explore and celebrate the principles of participation, inclusion and radical self expression. In honor of Tutu Tuesday, Today I present you with several images of my favorite tutus, and invite you to share your favorite images or tutu memories in the comments below.  Photo Credit Abby Youngs @organigirl  photo credit Mark Fromson@Autobiographica  photo credit Mark Fromson@Autobiographica
|
Archives
October 2024
Categories |
RSS Feed
