I have to begin with a disclaimer. Here in the Bay Area, the title of this post might suggest
this is yet another tome praising Burning Man. But no, read on.
It’s easy to make that assumption.
It seems you can’t go to any social gathering without someone trying to
convert you to the “experience.”
When I say I love going to the desert, I have lost count of the number
of times someone has asked, “Do you go to Burning Man?” The answer is always no! I
go on to explain that I love the desert for its solitude, it’s quiet, its
beauty. I’m not a big crowd or big
party sort of person. A party in
the desert is just not my thing.
The devotees of Burning Man can rarely just leave it. The art they tell me, what about the
art?
Yes, the “art” (quotes very
intentional). I have seen plenty
of photos. Last month a friend
sent me a link with photos of this year’s event. The nighttime photos were stylistically interesting, but
frankly the skilled photographer could have made a strip mall parking lot look
just as an intriguing. The “art”
at Burning Man had little to do with the quality of those photos. I also see Burning Man art installed
around San Francisco. Never has it
compelled me to spend the time, money and energy of going to Burning Man. By contrast, I dream of a trip to Korea
just based on a few exhibits at the Asian
Art Museum. Ten years ago, I
first heard of Marfa, Texas and got there as quick as I could. Now, that’s art in the desert.
Back to Nevada, I just completed what I’ll call a Great
Basin Road Trip. It was a week on the road that started
by heading due East with a drive over the Tioga Pass. Nevada presents some
challenges for a road trip. There
are vast expanses with few people.
You need to think about where you’ll fill the gas tank and where you’ll
even find a motel. I planned this
trip to be one where I was in no particular hurry. Allowing myself to stop when I found something that caught
my interest. I say “no particular
hurry” but cruise control is your best friend. Let’s just say that without cruise control, hypothetically,
you find Perez Prado blasting on the car stereo and you look at the speedometer
and you, hypothetically of course, are hitting 100 mph.
The second day of the trip I woke up in Tonopah, Nevada. Tonopah is a mining town that survived
in a landscape that is dotted with ghost towns. The mine is long closed, the population has grown smaller,
but Tonopah still is a community.
Having frequently visited ghost towns like Bodie and Rhyolite, I find
places like Tonopah fascinating.
In Rhyolite you have a few stone façades, in Tonopah many of the old
stone buildings are still standing and occupied. By visiting both the
ghost towns and similar towns that are still in existence, you get a different perspective
on both places. It is a different experience from the
visiting a restored historic town or district. Nevada is probably one of the only places where this could
happen.
Tonopah offers two museums, neither an art museum per se,
but still definitely an art experience.
I began with the Tonopah Historic Mining
Park. Okay, I have a certain affinity for old rusty
stuff. It always makes me whip out
my camera. If an artist had come
along and placed all these discarded pieces of machinery, we would call it an
installation. Either way, it still
has that effect. The Hoist House
was my favorite spot. Hoist houses
were industrial buildings with an adjacent tower and the machinery needed to
hoist the loads of heavy ore out of the ground. And, if those towers remind you of that much-talked-about
“man” in the Nevada Desert, well yes, so much art really is derivative. The building is well preserved. There is certain magic about the
interior of a large wood frame, tin clad building in the desert. The intense desert light is always
“calmed” inside these structures.
It’s bright yet gentle. But
the real magic is the sound. As
the day heats up there is the pop and crackling of metal and hardware expanding
and contracting. It’s hard to
really describe, but once you’ve experienced it, you know. And if you’re like me, you always like
to step inside those buildings.
On the way out of town I stopped by the Central Nevada
Museum. I learned that
sun and magnesium turn glass purple and I fell in love with a map of mining
claims. Keep an eye out, this
pattern might appear in my work soon.
The road took me onward with a stop at the ever-kitschy Little A’Le’Inn near mythical Area
51. And before reaching Utah I
stopped at Cathedral
Gorge State Park. Nevada has a
few lesser-known state parks that are of national park caliber. As I pretty much had the place to
myself, I shouldn’t complain.
Nevada has tough competition in the West. It’s quite beautiful, but when you’re stuck between
California, Utah and Arizona, no one seems to notice Nevada. If we moved Nevada between say, Kansas
and Oklahoma, well, everyone would rave about Nevada.
After a few days in Utah and it was time to head home. This time a different route that
included Great Basin National Park and an overnight in Ely, Nevada. Downtown Ely boasts a sculpture park
with works by Sarah Sweetwater that incorporate abandoned mining
equipment. The next challenge is Loneliest
Road in America. Route 50 is a segment of the old Lincoln Highway and
actually follows the original Pony Express Trail across Nevada. It’s a long, but rather beautiful drive
that ended in Reno.
In Reno I held to my rule
about visiting museums in smaller cities.
The Nevada Museum of Art is
always worth a look. The highlight
of this visit was Richard Ross’s photographs of
children caught up in America’s juvenile “justice” system. It’s a disturbing and unpleasant show,
but the sort of important subject that museums need to address at times. I kept thinking, could this show even
happen in a San Francisco venue?
It would never be pretty enough for the de Young. Perhaps the SFMOMA, but frankly Ross
will need to be “validated” more by New York to get on their radar. Even Yerba Buena would be unlikely to
show his work. There are limits to
their edginess.
People ask why I go on desert road trips, well now you might
have a better idea.
