innerviews_everdumbening_burningman2oo2 frAnk we are always ever-enlightened by your words... tell us, please, of your adventures this past year in the desert ...james and the giant soul. 030127 ... ever dumbening Five months now passed and saplings then planted are starting to bear fruit. You chose a perfect day on which to launch this innerview. The night before, I had yet another dream of the desert--this time a strange circular stockyard roof covered the gathered. That Monday was the first day to send in for tickets for this coming year. And, too, flying charcoal in the morning and flying steel at night filled that day--Art! As a final thought of the preface I would direct any interested to the blathe "sojourn" (and many blathes in that time frame have smatterings of desert influence). This year on the playa proved yet again just that, that it's an entire year. The week in Nevada becomes the nucleus, and the other fifty-one are the electrons. I have a text from my undergraduate days, a chemistry book, whose subtitle is 'The Science of Change.' Burning Man provides the tools and the light and the contrast to objectively observe the cycles of change in my own life. Last year, Burning Man started to light up the radar pretty heavily for me in about May. The fish idea and form began condensing and picking up speed in June. Ironically, I was feeling a cloudy unease for much of last year that began around that time. And I kept thinking that as I got more involved in the creation of my installation that that energy would begin to buoy, by sheer force, my sagging insides. It didn't; it did, though, have other drastic results. Within two weeks of returning from the desert, I had given notice at my job of three and a half years. I had, from day one, reason to leave that job--mindless, corporate, soulless. Now I had not only a reason but a spark. And perspective. The creation of my sea-glass fish was fraught with obstacles and their stumblings. Ultimately, though, the fish flew. I was a Burning Man Artist. Hah! I then thought to myself, given uncertainty, we can choose one of two ways to move (which are, however, always intertwined). The one is The Careful Path--planned, calculated, cold. This is the path of my father and of most of my life. The other is The Impassioned Path--chaotic, rocky, rich. This is the path I am now on. That fish taught me that the latter path is a viable, if sine-curve filled, option. *** The weather - always demanding attention and respect - was eerily perfect this year. My camp was small, balanced, energetic. The dot com bust was somewhat evident, though the population was its biggest ever at 29,000. I even was taught how to weld, so I could help with the creation of a 10,000 square foot garden of steel sculptures. We laughed non-stop at (and with) those passing by our camp one night as we forced them to try and juggle three giant blue glowsicks we had. I strolled around as Aquaman, a perfect neon orange and green rendering. Squatting I watched, mesmerized (by symbolism, by my past, by the simple beauty), as a scale model of Beijing's Forbidden City went up in flames. I met a woman, who loves sea-glass, from whose breasts I ate slivers of mango drizzled with Crystal hot sauce; and though it only briefly danced beyond friendship, the connection was worthy of a November trip down u_s_101 to share some pad_thai and explore body mind spirit. All that said, though, my focus this burning year (it's like a fiscal year) was strongly inward, due to my own project and how it was affecting me. *** Here I am, then, emerging out the other side, currently enrolled in three art classes--welding, ceramics, drawing. Running out of money. Living! And turning some of those hot ashes back into trees. --- Anyone interested in a picture of my creation can email me. 030203 what's it to you? who go blather from