An interview with documentarian George Post
Five questions by Sam Kulla
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A dedicated photographer in the fullest sense, George Post has documented 21 consecutive years of the wild annual gathering Burning Man, which takes place in the harsh and surreal Black Rock Desert.  He commented for High Contrast Review on  the social aspects of photography, desert party shooting gear, night & multiple exposure photography, and community in general, and told about his current endeavors.

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Q1.) As a first time participant this year, I was struck with the stigma about photography. Over the years, has this always been the case, that people are encouraged to forgo photography? Or did it develop (no pun intended) as time went on and the event grew? How has your place as a photographer of the incredible event evolved over the years?

A1.) I don’t think all that many people “forgo photography;” in fact, with the proliferation of inexpensive digital cameras and camera-phones in recent years, more photographs are being taken by more Burners than ever before. But the social convention of “ask before shooting” has become more evident, and especially we professional Playa photographers have tried to abide by that. Many times it doesn’t even need to be verbalized; I frequently approach a photogenic person or group, hold up my camera and just raise my eyebrows questioningly. Usually the response is positive, but now and then people will shake their heads and hold up hands to block their faces, in which case I just turn my lens elsewhere.

It seems to me that Burners, like the general population, fall into three categories: “hams” who love to have their picture taken and are often in outrageous costumes; those “NoPixPlease” types who distinctly don’t want their picture taken; and those who don’t feel strongly either way. As the event has grown and the demographic has been swelled by 20- and 30-somethings, I think the number of NoPix people have increased proportionally, so it may seem that there’s more stridency there nowadays.

Many young Burners seem to think that the longtime “No Spectators” ethos extends to image-makers, but frankly, without us documentarians, Burning Man would never have achieved the world fame it enjoys today. A couple of years ago I was photographing an art piece with my digital SLR, on the open Playa way out near the perimeter fence. Some young guys were standing near it, and suddenly one of them came over to me and said, “Were you just photographing me and my friends?” I told him that I was not interested in them, that I was just photographing the art piece; he demanded that I delete the images, and when I refused he said, “I’d better not ever see that image in print or on the Internet.” I told him that, if I ever published the image, I would just crop or Photoshop him out. He accepted that, but grudgingly. So, yes, there is sometimes a “stigma” and anti-imagery sentiment.

In particular, many Critical Tits riders are upset about having to “ride through a gauntlet” of ogling men and especially cameramen in order to complete their annual topless female bicycle rally. There has even been a proposal to make it a women-only, no-cameras-allowed event. My reaction to that is simple: If you don’t want to attract guys and guys-with-cameras, put on a shirt! If a Theme Camp wants to hold no-camera or gender-exclusive events behind the flap of their teepee, that’s fine, but out on the open public Playa, it seems to me that there should be no official exclusionary constraints or restrictions. In small group situations, “ask before shooting” works, but in mass events such as Critical Tits or the major art burns, there is just no way to obtain prior consent from everyone who may appear in my images. In those cases I fall back on my role as documentarian and just take pictures at will, while trying to remain sensitive to privacy issues.

In the early years things were much more open. It was expected that attendees would be photographed, filmed, or videotaped; in fact there used to be language to that effect on the backs of the tickets. That all changed a few years ago when a video crew shot telephoto footage of naked female Burners without their knowledge or consent and put it up on a commercial porn site. In responding to that clearly sleazy invasion of Burner privacy, the Burning Man organization clamped down very hard and began requiring registration of professional cameras and the signing of a lengthy legal document which essentially gives Burning Man “veto power:” a 50% interest in the copyright of every still or moving image shot at the event. And in keeping with Burning Man’s long tradition of non-commercialism, the organization categorically does not allow the use of imagery from the event to be used for advertising. That part’s fine with me, but I do sometimes feel frustrated by the strictness of the contract. Suppose I get an email from, say, a magazine in Germany wanting to use one of my photographs in an editorial article. Often such sales are on a tight deadline, and if I were to wait until I receive official written permission from Burning Man, I would lose the sale. So I have sometimes just made the deal, provided the image to the publisher, and then later made Burning Man aware of it and sent in my 10% “tithe to the Man” when I receive payment. And the Burning Man staff are, in practice, much more flexible than the official language of the Contract would suggest. Last year they even held several meetings with image-makers about the whole privacy vs. copyright question, and they softened considerably the previously strict legalese wording of the contract.

As to how my place as a photographer has changed, in the early years of Black Rock City I was one of a mere handful of professionals documenting the event, nearly all of us male. As the event has grown, more and more freelancers, serious amateurs, and working-press image makers have joined the fray, including a great many women. Many of the younger shooters working at Burning Man are producing unbelievably beautiful and creative imagery, sometimes with inexpensive point-and-shoot cameras. So now I’m really just one of many—which is a good thing, since no one person can now even see it all, let alone document it. And we’re not the least bit competitive; we share information on techniques, equipment, and events. We laud each other’s imagery and projects and successes and publications. We’re colleagues united by a common goal: to document an ephemeral world-class event and create images-as-Art. For all of us, Black Rock City is simply a fantastically photogenic place where we can create unique images unlike anywhere else on the planet.

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Q2.) What kind of gear do you use? Is it always with you or do you sometimes leave it behind and just roll the point and shoot? What’s your shooting rhythm like at an event so long compared to a day-long or afternoon shoot in the outside world?

A2.) I like to camp on the outskirts of Black Rock City, around 4:15 on the next-to-outermost ring road. But I can still bicycle from my camp to the Man in 7 minutes if I pedal hard. I’m a lifelong early riser, and I like to get up at 5am and be out on the Playa by first light at 5:30 and work dawn, sunrise, and early-morning light for a couple of hours. Then I go back to camp for tea and breakfast, camp maintenance, and socializing. Throughout the middle of the day the light is fairly boring, but I ride around and do some straight documentary shooting of camps, art installations, and Center Camp events unless it’s too hot or dust-stormy. In late afternoon when the light begins to be rich and warm I will go out for “golden hour,” sunset, and twilight shooting, sometimes bringing a tripod on my bike so I can transition to long exposures for awhile after dark when Black Rock City really comes alive with colorful subject matter. I know that a lot of wonderful things are happening throughout the night, but at age 64 I just can’t do all-nighters anymore, so I generally try to have a late dinner and hit the sack by 11pm or midnight.

I almost always take at least one camera with me whenever I leave my camp. One year my girlfriend and I went “out on the town,” and she had talked me into not taking a camera. I found it quite frustrating. For example, dozens of Burners were gathered within the encompassing light and warmth of the Flaming Lotus Girls’ “Serpent Mother” piece and I felt helpless not being able to document photographically the magical sight.

Regarding photo gear, for many years I was using two complete Nikon film-camera systems. First, two manual-focus F3 bodies (one motorized and one not) and an assortment of prime-focus lenses from 24mm to 400mm. Also, an N90s body with autofocus 24mm and 85mm prime lenses and 35-70mm & 70-200mm zooms. I used the N90s system in a fanny-pack for most of my Playa shooting, but I distrusted the zooms for many nocturnal subjects such as illuminated art and big burns, due to their tendency to capture “ghosting” or internal lens-element reflections of bright objects and flames against dark backgrounds. So I preferred to use manual-focus lenses for those situations. My film of choice was Fujichrome Velvia 50 for its rich, saturated colors, fine grain, and crisp contrast.

I was a bit slow to switch from film to digital on the Playa. Even when I was making the transition in my commercial studio work, I didn’t want to expose my expensive digital SLR to the dusty conditions of Black Rock City, so I continued working with my Nikon film cameras. But once I had upgraded to a newer Canon digital camera system, I began taking my older Fuji FinePix S1 to Burning Man. I immediately embraced the advantages; digital is just so much easier, more flexible, and more immediate. However, I discovered that film holds better detail in very bright subject matter such as flames and sunsets, so I still shoot a few rolls of film at the Man and Temple burns.

A couple of years ago I asked several of my DSLR-shooting colleagues about dust problems and was eventually convinced that it was manageable. The main danger, of course, is dust particles on the sensor chip, resulting in lots of dark specks on each and every image. After I bought a Canon 5D MkII for studio work, I began taking my older Canon 20D and 5D bodies to the Playa with a 17-40mm zoom and 50mm & 100mm lenses. I never change lenses in dusty conditions, but even so the Playa dust is so sneaky that I have to have my DSLRs’ sensors professionally cleaned every year after Burning Man. It’s not so expensive, actually; $50 for the 20D and $65 for the 5D, and in 2010 I also had to have the 17-40mm zoom disassembled and cleaned ($135). Compared to film, 20-40 rolls of slide film at $25 a roll for film, processing, mounting, and imprinting, even with sensor cleaning digital turns out to be much cheaper in the long run.

I see the world through wide-angle eyes, so nowadays I usually just take the 5D with the 17-40mm zoom for most of my Playa work. Sometimes I also take a Canon G-11 compact for quick snaps and telephoto shots. For the big burns of major art pieces, the Man, and the Temple, I used to take three big camera bags and two heavy tripods on a home-made trailer behind my bicycle. Eventually that just got to be too much, so for the 2010 and 2011 Man and Temple burns I just used the 5D with 17-40mm zoom and the Nikon N90s system for a few rolls of film, and just one tripod and no bike-trailer. What a relief to be traveling lighter!

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Q3.) Your work I’ve seen thus far makes it clear you have an unusually sharp sense of movement and stability, particularly in low light. Can you describe one of the more involved or experimental shots you’ve attempted on the playa? Can we see it?

A3.) I always say that “the tripod sets you free.” Once the camera is on a tripod, there is really no limit to exposure time, and moving subjects often produce wonderful blur effects, especially if they’re colorful. The stability of a solid tripod also allows for registered (aligned) double-exposures; for example, I have sometimes exposed entire rolls of film just for the neon of the Man, then carefully re-wound and re-loaded the film to double-expose the flames of the Burn over the earlier neon image. In 1991, my first Burn, I even shot double-exposures with my 4×5” Horseman view camera by putting film holders into the camera twice. That was the only year I’ve taken that big, complicated, and unwieldy camera, though.

Several times I have also captured time exposures of the magical moment when the Man’s arms are raised, traditionally signifying Readiness to Burn. I call these images “Neon Angels,” because they remind me of the Snow Angels we used to make as kids by flopping on our backs in the snow and flapping our arms up and down. I first became aware of this potential back in 1994 where I captured a partial “angel” quite by accident. Several times since I have managed to record the entire arm-raising sequence on a single frame of film, but the best yet is the 20-second exposure I shot in 2011 with the Man in his first-ever “striding” position.

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Q4.) As a burner of many a man, no doubt you can remember the days before dub step was a mainstay. What is your personal, impulse reaction to the impressive popularization and transformation of the event over the years, especially in terms of community and collective intent? What are your most optimistic musings on its future?

A4.) I see the organic growth of the event as an obvious development of its alternative-society potential. As a once-a-hippie-always-a-hippie rebel, I think American culture has become so banal, so crassly commercial, and so devoid of true Earth-based spirituality that an event such as Burning Man has vast appeal to anyone not distracted by the everyday opiates of mainstream media, big-box-store shopping, fundamentalist religion, and reality television. Sure, it’s hard to get to, tickets have become absurdly expensive, and it’s hot, parched, dusty, and noisy. But again and again I hear the phrase “life-changing experience” in reference to Burning Man. There’s a reason the Greeters say “Welcome Home” when you arrive at Black Rock City; it’s a place apart, where the screwed-up priorities of the Default World are replaced by something true and free and right. Put plainly, Burners know how to pitch in, help out, get things done, and still party hearty afterward. And I think that the annual commemorative Temples, begun by David Best in 2000, have put a spiritual bass-note in the experience.

Burning Man is certainly rather illusory, and it only lasts a week, but Burner Culture has begun spreading its positive message outward, with organizations like the Black Rock Arts Foundation, Burners without Borders, Black Rock Solar, and the various Regional Burn groups doing positive and beneficial work and creating amazing art throughout the world. (And for the record, I actually kinda like dub-step and all the other pounding techno music which pulses through Black Rock City all day and all night.)

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Q5.) When I attended this year, I learned that all the hyperbole I’d heard was true. The event is impossible to describe. It can be everything you want it to be. Cliches all prove true. How has being an observer and documenter of one of the more powerful gatherings in history changed and shaped you as a citizen of the earth? What have you learned?

A5.) A human figure in flames is a powerful metaphor for life richly lived. I think that’s why, from the very first Burn in San Francisco in 1986, a group of enthusiastic individuals has repeated the ritual again and again. But that’s just the molten core of what Burning Man is about.

As soon as I learned about Burning Man back in June of 1991, I felt it was Something Special. I determined to attend it that year, loved it at first sight, and I’ve gone back every year since. In the early years we knew we were onto something powerful, but only gradually, as the event grew and evolved, did we realize its potential for suggesting a new and different way for humans to be, live, and work together. We all take that with us when we return to the Default World. And really, I think of myself as something of a dabbler, as Burners go; I am self-employed, with a very busy work schedule and intergenerational family commitments, so the amount of time I can devote to Burning Man is limited. But those dedicated folks in the Burning Man organization and the many volunteers who live it 24/7/365 and pull the whole thing together year after year are a source of constant amazement to me, and I am extremely grateful to them.

Personally, in this era of global warming, I am not thrilled about the carbon footprint of the ever-larger Burns and the ever-increasing motor-vehicle travel involved in getting 55,000 people to Black Rock City for a week—and then getting them back home. There was an attempt back in 2007 to make it a carbon-neutral event, but I think that’s faded out. Frankly, it’s probably no worse than the NASCAR car-race circuit or huge outdoor music festivals such as Coachella. But the Burn itself has become very much a pyrotechnics display, with the Man himself often nearly invisible among all the fireworks. So sometimes I contemplate the eventuality of a non-Burning Man that could be recycled year after year. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it: to see the Man burn and collapse into a bonfire, and then to madly leap about the flames until they dwindle to embers, and then to return in the morning and help scrape up the ashes.

I took a friend out to Black Rock City in 2002, and as soon as we found our campsite and unloaded our bikes we rode out to the Man. She just kept saying, over and over, “Oh. My. God. I really had no idea! This is just SO COOL!!!” Her mind was being completely blown by every art piece, every costumed Burner, every weird and surreal and fantastic sight we saw as we bicycled across the Playa. And that was even before we reached the Man himself, perched atop a huge surreal white lighthouse in the middle of 400 square miles of absolutely flat alkali desert…

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BONUS QUESTION.)  What’s up with the book you have coming out? Where will it be available? When?

ABQ.) My book is all laid out for the years 1991-2007; I’m currently working on the 2008 pages and hope to finish the last three years by the end of the 2011. My working title is “Dancing with the Playa Messiah: 21 Years of Burning Man Photography.” I do anticipate some legal discussions with the Burning Man organization; I will have to sign a long legal contract with them, and I may have to eliminate some photos which include nudity unless I can identify the subjects and obtain model releases from them.

Once it’s complete, I plan to pitch it to a few possible publishers, but if none of them bites I will self-publish. I have looked into Kickstarter as a possible source of funding, or I may just dip into my retirement fund. In any case, I hope it will be available early in 2012, well before the End of the World (as foretold by the Mayan Calendar). I am also considering both print and electronic versions. Many people have said they love the tactile experience of looking through a real book and wouldn’t want to give that up. But my book also looks great as a PDF on an iPad, with the ability to easily finger-flick from one page to the next and the ability to zoom in with the reverse-pinch screen gesture. So I hope eventually it will be available in both forms, probably both in bookstores and online.

 

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George Post lives and works as a professional photographer in the Bay Area.  Have a look at his work from this world at GeorgePostPhotography.com or try to find him around 4:15 on the next-to-outermost ring road in that one.