Earth Turner, Jann Samuels

Preferred Transportation

Diamond Portal, Harlan Emil

There was one place I visited early in the week on that left a lasting impression, simple as it was.  It was a circular structure on the outer edge of the playa about 4 feet across that beckoned entry (Dark Cylinder:  A Repose for Scattered Minds by Tom Biggs).  Once inside and sitting down the black mesh surrounding the structure cooled the air, the breeze flapped the opening. The stark Vault of Heaven (2004's official theme),  loomed above.  It was a place to be still and take refuge.  The sound of the wind blew through me as if I wasn’t there and I was a silent but protected witness to the elements of the desert.  It was a peaceful and powerful experience.

The Playa is full of theme camps offering everything under the sun: foot care (playa foot is a painful cracking of the skin), massage, henna, body painting, portrait photography, pampering, flattery, scrabble, entertainment, lessons in bondage, pee funnels for women (so females can use the urinal) and so much more. Our camp, “The Catholic School Girls Rescue Mission,” was sinful.  We all had schoolgirl outfits, the pleated plaid skirts and white shirts, a book of sins that people could confess to, and an offering of forbidden fruit.  One night we all went out on the Playa and surrounded bystanders whom we found to be not so innocent, and offered them ‘condomunion’ once they had confessed their sins.  We urged everyone to go out and sin again—safely of course. Some of my favorite sins were:  “My audacious love of bacon,”  “ I stole my husband’s anal cherry,” and “Not being kind to myself.”  What we offered to people was a small part of the many offerings that people give each other at this event.  This is a place to let go and play.

The art was memorable, a lot of it interactive, bike-powered, or fire-breathing. There was the stationary art, and the art cars which are the only vehicles that are allowed to drive on the Playa. Many of them are feats of ingenuity.  There were cars that looked like fish, a scorpion, a bar car complete with music, grass fringe, and stools, many party cars blasting music that would ebb and pulse as they drove by, and a drive in movie car that played Caligula to name only a few. One of the best cars belonged to our neighbors Mark and Joyce. Their art, which we

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