Burning Man is bordering on being out of control. And this problem has been years in the making
By Corinne Loperfido Sep 1, 2024 (SFChronicle.com)

Attendees walk through a muddy desert plain on September 2, 2023, after heavy rains turned the annual Burning Man festival site in Nevada’s Black Rock desert into a mud pit. Tens of thousands of festivalgoers were stranded Sept. 3, in deep mud in the Nevada desert after rain turned the annual Burning Man gathering into a quagmire, with police investigating one death. Julie Jammot/AFP via Getty Images
Burning Man started in 1986 as a small gathering on Baker Beach, where Larry Harvey and Jerry James built effigies of a man and dog out of scrap wood to burn down — an act of what they called “radical self-expression.”
Nearly 40 years later, that San Francisco beach party has turned into an unrecognizably huge gathering in the Nevada desert — one that’s in desperate need of reinvention to reclaim the spirit of Harvey and James’ original vision and purpose.
As an artist and performer, I have deep gratitude for the arts and culture that Burning Man has inspired. But now seems like an important time for self-proclaimed “burners” to be asking themselves: Is this really the right place to be putting my time, energy and resources right now?
I attended Burning Man in 2015 and was shocked by the environmental irresponsibility even back then.
Part of my work is upcycled fashion and costume design — and I went to the desert to understand my customers, who were asking for elaborate custom costume orders for the event. All around me, I saw synthetic fake furs and cheap LED-lit costumes, which were meant for a good time, not a long time. After the event, dumpsters in the small towns surrounding Black Rock City overflowed with fast fashion, single-use food packages, abandoned tents, sleeping bags and even huge couches.
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I wasn’t surprised that after last year’s catastrophic event, when heavy rains trapped attendees for days, Burning Man would confront shockingly low advance sales — to the point where the festival started selling tickets in person, something organizers haven’t had to do since 2011.
Additionally, the resale market for tickets collapsed — those who bought tickets but changed their mind aren’t getting anywhere near face value in return. Burning Man didn’t even have a reselling marketplace set up because it barely needed one until this year. Now, those trying to unload tickets have resorted to haggling and name-calling in Facebook groups.
As this year’s event started, rains again forced a temporary closure of the entrance gate, wreaking more havoc on the playa that was already heavily damaged by last year’s rain. And on Sunday, a woman died for unknown reasons, putting yet another black mark on Burning Man’s recent history.
The reality is that Burning Man is bordering on being out of control. And this problem has been years in the making.
Burning Man claims “radical self-reliance” as a principle. Another is “leave no trace.”
But Burning Man barely received its U.S. Bureau of Land Management permit this year because of the scramble it took to restore the grounds after last year’s flooding (where there is likely still tons of debris buried below the dried mud).
And it doesn’t feel very “self-reliant” when you consider the fossil fuels needed to travel to the event and power the big recreational vehicles and air-conditioned orgy domes.
According to the Washington Post, Burning Man organizers estimated that more than 54,200 metric tons of carbon were released by the festival in 2019, the equivalent of burning 27,215 metric tons of coal, while Black Rock Labs, a nonprofit tech incubator, put the amount at 100,000 tons. About 91% of the emissions were from transporting 80,000 people and equipment into and out of the desert.
“That’s largely cars and recreational vehicles, but it’s also planes. Attendees visit from more than 5,500 cities across the world and the event sets up its own airport,” the Post reported.
We’re living on a burning Earth, literally and figuratively. Climate chaos is resulting in flooding, fires and heat waves that only seem to grow more severe with every passing season. Staging an incredibly expensive and environmentally damaging festival in light of this state of the world just feels wrong.
I am not proposing that all gatherings must end and all fun be canceled. I am calling for people to focus their resources and attention locally and take the inspiration and principles of Burning Man into their communities.
The nonprofit that organizes Burning Man also organizes a global network of regional events, where Burners can connect on a smaller scale, expending fewer resources.
Burning Man organizers should learn from this year’s failures and scale down the Nevada event. In exchange, they should redouble their efforts to support the regional Burning Man events, making them every bit as special and inspiring, on a scale that inflicts far less environmental damage and requires fewer resources to stage.
Rather than desecrating grounds, regional Burning Man events can make ecological repair their focus: restoring the Earth, cleaning lands and taking environmental and community action. They can educate the world about making responsible choices in everything from fashion to travel, to preserve the resources we have left, while there’s still time to do so.
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Finally, thank you, Burning Man, for what you showed us was possible. The creativity and sheer imagination on display in the Nevada desert were inspiring and jaw-dropping in scale and originality.
But the old ways aren’t working and haven’t been for some time. So, let’s burn them down.
Corinne Loperfido is a social practice artist whose work spans visual and performance art, upcycled fashion and costume design, as well as community event production.
Sep 1, 2024
Corinne Loperfido



