We’re excited to announce that We Are From Dust is collaborating with Burning Man Project to manage and place virtual art installations in several of the Universes that will constitute Black Rock City 2020, at this year’s virtual Burn, aka The Multiverse.
In a recent post on the Burning Man Journal, Burning Man Project revealed:
“[T]here are to be eight virtual Universes and the standalone Temple experience in the 2020 Burning Man Multiverse — each independently produced by members of the Burning Man community who have demonstrated their commitment to the 10 Principles.”
While each of these worlds offers a unique and different slice of the Burning Man experience, WAFD will be supporting all of them in their quest to include art from Burning Mans past.
For further information visit the Burning Man Kindling to explore the different Universes in more depth, and to learn how you can participate and co-create.
The fact that I would never be an artist was sealed before I reached the age of six. Living in communist (at that time) Czechoslovakia meant that a committee of “experts” would come to the kindergarten, examine a child, and deliver the verdict to their parents. And so it was. Two ugly people came, observed us for a minute or two, made us do a few tasks, and after our every move or answer wrote something down in their notebooks.
Portrait of the artist as a young woman (Photo c/o Míša Rygrová)
Raised eyebrows, eye-rolling and whisper-like speak was ever present as I was standing in front of them. They were not amused. They snickered when snatching a drawing from under my little shaking hands. They were not smiling. The verdict was quite straight and harsh: no talent at all, no recommendation for any of the music or art club for kids. Useless. Done. My mum looked at me softly, caressed my hair, and we went home. The result? I couldn’t be enrolled in any State-organized after school art or music class — and in case you were wondering, no, there were not private ones. Since then art was not for me to make but to watch, and both my parents and I were wholeheartedly convinced of it. Things started to change when I was bit older (around 6th or 8th grade). Communism was gone, the system had changed, and I would “art” at home more and more often to the point that I collected all my courage and went to art class after school and asked if I could stay for the lesson. I was older than the other kids there. I didn’t have a paper signed by my parents, as they didn’t know I was there at all. I didn’t have money to pay for it.
Míša working on an art project (Photo c/o Míša Rygrová)
The teacher said yes. I loved it. It was different. I was free and happy. I was surprised by my own creations. I never would have guessed I am capable of such things. At the end of the lesson I asked if I could come again and the teacher handed me a form for my parents to fill out and sign, and they asked me to bring money next time. I was very nervous asking my mum — after all, I was not a match for art. It was clearly said by “experts” that I should keep my hands very far from any of it. To say that my mum was surprised when I handed her the form would be an understatement, but she didn’t hesitate, and she supported me. The family budget was tight, but she made it work. How? I do not know. Art stopped being the thing to “only watch” for me and my mum still has several of my pieces hanging around the house.
I experienced my next big artistic milestone in 2010 when I first came to Black Rock City at the age of 28. Sure, I’d seen big art before. For sure I had encountered some interactive art before as well, though I could barely remember it. But I didn’t see THIS coming.
Míša on Orion Fredericks’ “Exsucatare Triectus” at Burning Man (Photo c/o Míša Rygrová)
I was mesmerized. Not only by its beauty and creativity, but what it did to people. They were coming together, strangers were becoming friends while admiring the pieces and playing (!) with them. Later I learned that also happened while people were creating them, too. The adults were playing with art like kids with no shame, with huge excited eyes and opened hearts. The art was changing people. It transported me to the time before I was condemned not to be an artist, before I met the “experts”.
Creating art for Black Rock City (Photo c/o Míša Rygrová)
Interactive art became the “new normal” for me. Over the years it integrated into my life so much that I started to share my own ideas with others, and even my own creations. (Heck, I even got a grant from the Black Rock Arts Foundation (BRAF), which until today is one of the most insane things to happen to me.) This “new normal” enriched me not only through unforgettable experiences, but through the people who expanded my circles, many of whom became my extended family. I’ve seen adults turn into kids, kids turn into engineers, silly ideas turn into dreams, and dreams turn into reality. I’ve seen unexpected connections made despite differences in language, nationality or religion. I’ve seen the insane and impossible to turn into “Hell yes let’s do this.” Just pure joy moving mountains for art to come to life and delight others.
Míša, Larry Harvey and Marian Goodell enjoying Misa’s “Project Suitcase” project (Photo by Margo Trushina)
For me, We Are From Dust embodies all of this. It is a means to spread interactive art around the world, to put it close to people, and let it change them — to eliminate the voices of the “experts” in people’s minds which say they should stay away from art. Let people touch, feel and play with the art. Experience it. Then they can decide how far they really want to go. How far do you want to go? Will you participate?
We Are From Dust’s Inaugural Exhibition at Point San Pablo Harbor
by Candace Locklear
Art is important. It inspires. It has the power to transform the people who gaze at and gather around it.
While Big Art commands you to marvel at it as a spectator, Interactive Art invites you to engage much more deeply. That is when the real magic happens.
Strangers turn toward each other to share excitement and thoughts sparked by the piece. They show each other how to touch, climb, straddle or even ride the artwork, and encourage others along. They connect.
To be so uniquely drawn in by art, and then have the chance to share your delight with those around you, sparks bliss. Something in the brain snaps to attention — and suddenly new ideas, hopes, dreams, and possibilities are unlocked.
“Future’s Past” by Kate Raudenbush, at Point San Pablo Harbor (Photo by Tex Allen)
That is what we mean when we talk about the transformative power of big, interactive art. Many who have trekked to Black Rock City understand this magic and have come to crave it. It happens in smaller scale elsewhere, too. Just recently, the Albany Bulb hosted a number of installations, which drew people together to talk, marveling at what they were experiencing there in the reeds by the Bay. And Charlie Gadeken’s piece “Squared” just left its post in Hayes Valley where it thrilled thousands, and is on its way to Reno. Replacing it is a massive work -— a 17 foot sculpture of a woman called “Tara Mechani” by another long time artist Dana Albany, who made the piece for Burning Man two years ago.
Now that Big Art is being designed and created for festivals all over the world, it’s high time to figure out a way to extend the life of these works that more often than not get stuck in a warehouse or container. Art needs to breathe! Art should be out in public! And the artists deserve to be well paid for these creations — to rent or to own — so they can make a living wage and keep at it. Cities, institutions and citizens of means should be investing in bringing artworks into the open, giving more people the opportunity to be transformed.
We Are From Dust was formed with exactly this mission in mind. Our first project was just unveiled to around 200 local art lovers at Point San Pablo Harbor (PSPH) in Richmond, California. This marina, harbor, and surrounding land is being refurbished by people committed to developing a sustainable haven on the Bay and who appreciate the value of art, recognizing what it can do to galvanize a community. We are extremely honored that two legendary artists agreed to offer their works for our first exhibition. You’ll now find a tall, filigreed structure called “Future’s Past” by New York artist Kate Raudenbush there on the shore. Walk inside and see the circuit board-like cut-outs cast intricate shadows on your skin, or gaze in the mirror on top of the interior podium, or note how the embedded hourglass marks time in an ancient way.
“Asterpod” by Michael Christian, at Point San Pablo Harbor (Photo by Jon Ross)
While at PSPH, you are invited to walk past many colorful houseboats to a little jetty so that you are soon surrounded by breathtakingly unencumbered views of the northern Bay. At the jetty’s tip, you’ll find Michael Christian’s “Asterpod”, a crinkly wire ball on a metallic claw-like base with a hole just big enough for someone to crawl through. If you are there at night, you’ll be bathed in gently changing, multicolored lights that beam up from the bottom of the ball. Imagine the conversations that occur when three people climb inside to check out the vista around them?
We want as many people to experience these pieces as possible, and with your help, we can extend the exhibition of Big Art at Point San Pablo Harbor, and wherever our next Big Art exhibition will be.
Please get in touch if you want to help in some way. Make a tax-deductible donation to We Are From Dust so we can continue to compensate our artists and source more works to install. Turn on people who have the means to contribute so we can inject the Bay Area (and beyond) with a much-needed cultural shot in the arm.
