‘Freedom to play with fire’: A report from the rogue Burning Man event – SFGate

The unsanctioned gathering would take place on the Playa of Black Rock Desert, where Burning Man the annual celebration of free-spiritedness was held each summer since 1990. Many within the community of Burning Man, which formed in San Francisco before moving to Nevada in search of greater freedom, felt the event was irresponsible because it might violate several of the 10 Principles of Burning Man, notably civic responsibility and leaving no trace.

SFGATE reached out to long-time Burning Man volunteer Matthew Reyes (aka Motorbikematt) to share his experience with the Renegade Playa and his hopes for how to heal the divided community. The views expressed here are his own and not those of the Burning Man Project. His account has been edited and condensed for clarity and length.

Screencap of video recorded for social media, showing Matthew Reyes reviewing what he saw and felt immediately after leaving the Renegade Playa in 2021.

Im the producer and co-host of the official Burning Man webcast. Though originally from South Florida, Id lived in the Bay Area for over a decade working for places like NASA, GoPro, and now Dolby Labs before leaving during the pandemic to care for family.

I became infatuated with Burning Man in college after watching a "Nightline" story about it. At my first Burn, in 2010, I knew I would be hooked for life. A few years later, I hosted a live broadcast aboard a mutant vehicle called the Mars Rover Art Car, and I have volunteered my time and equipment ever since.

In 2020, when Black Rock City as the physical location of the yearly Burning Man celebration is called was canceled, most of us werent surprised. We understood the rationale. But that sentiment wasnt universal. A number of Burners, mostly pandemic skeptics, decided to go to the Black Rock Desert no matter what.

Volunteer and staff follow COVID-19 protocols while applying finishing touches to the Man in 2020.

One could assume this defiant group was a reflection of the fringe of the "default world" that behaved the same way. But when it comes to Burning Man, with its roots in San Franciscos Cacophony Society, defiance against authority especially the authority of "BMORG," as the Burning Man Project is derisively called by its critics is a longstanding pastime.

Fast forward to late winter of 2021. Of the nearly 80,000 citizens of Black Rock City in 2019, some just show up for the party. So there were big concerns about how to manage the pandemic, including verifying vaccination status. Many of us still thought it was obvious that the in-person event should be canceled for a second year.

Major theme camps, including Death Guild, which is among the most famous, pre-emptively announced their easy decision not to attend. [W]e do not want to be the next Sturgis, they wrote on Facebook, while citing issues like logistics, safety, concerns about commuting through Indigenous land during a pandemic and the ethics of inadvertently allowing only the economically privileged to attend what is already a diversity-challenged gathering at Black Rock City.

View from 12 Mile Entrance of Black Rock Desert. Dust obscures the crowd of thousands of Burners in the distance on Sept. 3, 2021.

In April, the in-person event was canceled again. But the decision was not without additional strife.

Shortly before the cancellation announcement, Burning Man co-founder Danger Ranger, an original Cacophonist, declared that the gathering, was never intended to be SAFE. He didnt believe vaccinations should be required to Black Rock City.

Having the freedom to play with fire is a part of our ethos, he wrote on Facebook. Requiring a vaccination for entry to BRC not only goes against that ethos, it is against logic.

It soon became clear from social media posts that many frustrated Burners, some clueless or dismissive of the Burning Man Projects (BMorg) year-round efforts to build Black Rock City, were hell-bent on getting to the desert. Those who went to this summers Renegade Burn are a small, and very passionate, minority. My total count of the various Facebook group memberships pre-event ranged from 16,000 to 18,000. While sizable, its not the nearly 80,000 people on the Playa in 2019, the over 500,000 webcast viewers during that years Burn Night, or the nearly 1.4 million followers of the Burning Man Projects Facebook page.

Andrew Ganzon, left, and Matthew Reyes take a moment to appreciate the hard work of the Man Burn video production on Sept. 4, 2021.

Soon after the 2020 cancellation, a small group of dedicated Burners carpenters, planners and others began focusing on building and broadcasting a Man Burn live video from Fly Ranch, the 3,800-acre Burning Man Project-owned property thats a short drive from the Playa. My webcast partner Andrew Ganzon and I were among them.

We kept our plan discreet to protect both the locals and the crew. We were concerned about lookie-loos who werent practicing the same precautions as our tiny group, which had committed to social distancing and masking. I also hoped the surprise of the 2020 webcast would lift the spirits of our community.

While the Playa is a hustle and bustle of parties, sound and unpredictable human activity, the Ranches Fly Ranch, which the Burning Man Project bought in 2016, and the Department of Public Works Ranch next door are serene and protective of the nature surrounding them. My gear is stored in a shipping container at DPW that serves as my webcast studio. That ranch, steeped in the history of Black Rock Cities past, is maintained year-round by a small and universally underappreciated staff. They always support me like family.

Controlling the camera during the Man Burn live video stream production in 2020.

This year, while preparing to livestream from Fly Ranch once again, I started to feel FOMO for the Plan B Burn. I wasnt planning on visiting but, since I was going to be in the neighborhood, I figured why not see it with my own eyes?

So after getting settled at the work ranch, I meandered over to the Black Rock Desert-High Rock Canyon Emigrant Trails National Conservation Area. At the entrance, the renegade event was only visible because of the dust trails kicked up by speeding vehicles.

Then, the outline of encampments emerged like a mirage. I drove the perimeter with my GoPro and spiraled inward. Once on the Playa, I have to admit, I too opened up the throttle. I parked the car a few times, hoping to find people to talk to, but many of the camps felt closed off not welcoming like Id expect in Black Rock City. It felt more like refugee glamping in clusters versus a community of Burners.

Revelers dance to DJs aboard Robot Heart sound mutant vehicle on Sept. 3, 2021.

My trip to the Playa turned into a support mission. Some Rogue Burners livestreaming the event needed a replacement computer part. I'd brought it as a gift to them and the community watching from home, but to deliver it, I had to find the "Robot Heart" mutant vehicle they had trained their camera on. Finding the team was a challenge without city streets. I had to drive, stop and turn off the car to listen. Finally, I heard that dirt rave with the deep bass thumps in the distance. As I got close enough to see the beautiful people cozy in their furs and outfits, the pang of missing Burning Man hit me hard.

Despite my nostalgia, as I was approaching their camera I also found plenty of disgusting MOOP Matter Out of Place in Burning Man speak including puddles of urine and three separate people peeing on the Playa a national conservation area with zero shame. While of course this happens in Black Rock City, Id never seen it so widespread.

A reveler urinates on the Renegade Burn video webcast trailer. To the left are just some of the puddles left behind by dancers on the playa on Sept. 3, 2021.

Leaving the Playa, I had very mixed feelings. I was relieved that the kind of stshow some were expecting did not happen. Yes, the week started off with a few accidents, some serious enough to require medevacs. Yet what I saw was mostly orderly and thoughtful. Still, I was wary about the MOOP, especially human waste and cars speeding in the soft Playa conditions.

Weeks later, after a rainstorm, some of my fears were realized Id learn from online reports when an uncountable amount of bagged, buried excrement floated to the Playa surface, including a completely full portable toilet. Fortunately, a few selfless volunteers managed to clean up the bags, and the original owners of the toilet were shamed into returning to the Playa to retrieve their mess.

But these are the problems that come from poor acculturation of Burning Mans principles. And despite the planning and discussion beforehand, the fact is luck was on the Rogue Burners side. The weather was fantastic and, in spite of a lot of high speed vehicles, no bystanders were seriously injured.

Workers help raise the man during the Man Burn video production on Sept. 4, 2021.

Despite everything, I think its fair to call this Burn a success. All Burners should celebrate that. Unfortunately many of the people who went to the Playa were using their individual successes of this "non-event" as incontrovertible proof that the Burning Man Project should not exist that these loosely affiliated groups can plan an event five or six times as large as this years Rogue Burn. (Several Burners have claimed over 20,000 attendees, but multiple professional estimates range between 13,000 and 16,000.)

Many loud voices online questioning the role of the Burning Man Project simply do not understand or appreciate the cost of dealing with government or the emergency planning required for low probability but high impact risks. If there had been bad weather, a large accident, or something else that the project prepares for, I'd be writing a different story.

The Man effigy fully engulfed in flames in 2021.

Even with the beautifully Instagrammable moments like the drone flight and Robot Heart, I take issue with anyone that claims this event will replace Burning Man. This Renegade Burn was not Black Rock City. Missing were many of the macro and micro levels of expression, art, creativity and civic responsibility that the Burning Man Project nurtures.

I hope everyone on both sides grows quieter and listens more. While snark, cacophony and anarchy are in the DNA of Burners, there needs to be a general rebalancing toward love and respect. We can continue to set an example to the rest of the world on how to listen, how to be civil and how to be self-reliant. I fear we are losing that. Maybe its time to stop shouting on social media and focus on building relationships especially on the Playa. I cant wait for next year.

Matthew Reyes, aka Motorbikematt, is the producer and co-host of the official Burning Man webcast.

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'Freedom to play with fire': A report from the rogue Burning Man event - SFGate