What Burning Man Taught Me.

My camera has always been an asset. Granting me access to people and places, allowing me to experience cultures and events in the way that few do - simply because I was the photographer. But what happens when that asset becomes a liability. When brandishing a camera is not welcomed. 

That is how I felt when I attended Burning Man for the first time in the summer of 2019. (That's me below).

For almost as long as the event has been held in the Nevada Black Rock desert, I have dreamed of experiencing it. Not so much for the sex, drugs and rock & roll, but to view with my camera the visual pallet that is Burning Man. The art, the costumes, the people, and the desert - all coming together to create an unimaginable world for me to capture.

But in the lead-up to my rookie year, I soon learned - through internet searches and even the welcome pack I received, that photography was not welcomed on the Playa. (What Burners call the desert). Even the Public Service Announcements on Burning Man Radio warned us not to take photos without first asking permission - they even suggested reporting abuses to law enforcement. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I really didn’t want to find out, nor did I want to be kicked out of an event I had spent nearly a year planning for. 

To understand, it helps to know the 10 principles that Burning Man is based on… 

Radical Inclusion

Gifting

Decommodification

Radical Self-reliance

Radical self-expression

Communal Effort

Civic Responsibility 

Leave No Trace

Participation

Immediacy

That last one, immediacy - is the principle in conflict with using a camera. And I get it, when you are engaging through a lens with the people around you, you’re not really connecting or allowing yourself to fully experience the moment. But I couldn’t imagine not taking pictures. So how could I make my presence, and my camera less intrusive. How could I convince these free-spirits that my intentions were respectful. 

I decided to print small “business” cards with the words, “You are beautiful. An original. And I see you.” I also included my email address and asked them to write to me after the Burn if they wanted a free copy of the image I just took. 

I hoped that the Burners would forgive my trespass and instead realize I was offering them a gift, in the form of a photo. (Remember the second principle of Burning Man?)

The first people I photographed were swinging on an interactive art piece - I captured a few images and then nervously approached. I really wasn’t sure what they would think of my little card, or if they would be upset that I hadn’t asked first - but I gave it to them anyway. After looking at the card for a moment, they gave me one of the best hugs I have ever received. Surprised by their reaction, I thought maybe they were unusually affectionate people, or maybe they had misunderstood what it meant. But that moment happened again and again! Each and every person was so appreciative that I had “seen” them. 

One day, as I was walking across the Playa I saw a couple dancing in front of an art piece. From a distance, I captured several images before they were aware of my presence. It was beautiful the watch. A week or so after the Burn I received this message..

Dear Teri,

It was a pleasure to meet you at Burning Man last week. I hope you had an amazing time and got some good shots. I just wanted to say that receiving your card made my day. It was a beautiful gift with a wonderful message. You photographed me dancing with my friend and gave us a card with the number 019 on it.

I hope you had a good burn. Hopefully, I'll see you next year! 

All the best, Guy 

After I sent him the image he wrote me back thanking me for “capturing the moment and choosing to share it”. His words struck me so profoundly, because although I had purported to be sharing my gift - was I really just looking for a way to make my voyeurism fit into the Burning Man ecosystem by calling it a gift? As an artist who struggles with self-doubt, I think it’s easy to underestimate our talents and the power they possess. 

But he wasn’t the only one. I received so many emails after the burn - from the mother of a child, appreciative that I had captured her daughter in a moment of joy. To the young couple from England who plan to hang the photo I took of them on their apartment wall. To the man who emailed me saying, “You saw me and I am beautiful. I have no memory of you taking my photo, but I would love to see it”. To the couple that barely spoke English, but knew how to pose for the camera. To my new friends on the Mutant Vehicle who said we never get good photos from the Burn. 

I didn’t truly realize what I had to offer my fellow Burners. I thought it was about me, and the images I wanted to take, but now I know… it was really about them. About seeing them.