Burning Man still doesn’t have a literary culture. Not even the appearance of one, or the promise of one on the horizon.
But horizons are illusions, and there’s always something on the other side.
Wow … I feel like I’m writing a lost verse of “Rainbow Connection.” Somebody get me a banjo. (Burning Man happens to have a highly advanced banjo culture. A theme camp will actually be sending the first banjo into space this September.)
But I digress.
Words may never adequately describe Burning Man, but words are a vital part of the human experience and the artistic impulse, and just because no literary style or culture has emerged doesn’t mean dedicated individual Burners aren’t out pushing the boundaries of the written word at Burning Man.
These are their stories.
Oh crap, now I’m doing an episode of Law & Order. How did this happen? Somebody call forensics!
You see what happens when there isn’t a literary culture? Words scatter across genres.
(Quick Fun Fact: Burning Man is developing one of the most advanced party forensic labs in America, capable of detecting exactly who harshed your buzz up to 30 hours after the incident. The technology is incredible.)
But I digress.
One of the innovators trying to push the boundaries of what words can do at Burning Man is Marzipan Man (Matthew Melnicki), who last year began placing “spines” – freestanding book depositories – on the playa, and placing his own hand-stitched books in them: free to take, with the hope that someone will put some of their own work in to share.