PHOTO ESSAY
Burning Man 2024
Curiouser and Curiouser
Burning Man has always been something
of a surreal experience. But the ‘Alice in
Wonderland’-inspired theme of 2024 raised
the level of playful absurdity to new heights.
Photos and Text
by Scott London
Attending Burning Man 2024 was a bit like walking around in a Salvador Dalí painting or a Lewis Carroll novel. Everywhere you looked there were nonsensical artworks in the shape of twisted clocks, giant jackalopes, carpets in the sky, and larger-than-life “bananas for scale.” Fantastical mutant vehicles resembling metal sharks, oversized baby buggies, prehistoric lizards and neon-colored Pac-Men drifted by on their way to nowhere in particular. And mad hatters, Cheshire cats and Alices in Wonderland seemed to greet you at every turn.
Burning Man has always been something of a surreal place — an ephemeral playground of whimsical art installations, wacky theme camps, startling art cars and bizarre performance pieces. But the theme of 2024, “Curiouser and Curiouser,” raised the level of playful absurdity to new heights.
Zozobot the Curious Clowndroid, a 30-foot tall installation by New Orleans artist Walker Babington.
The expectations were somewhat muted leading up to Burning Man 2024. After two years of pandemic-related cancelations followed by two years of extreme weather (record-breaking heat, wind and dust in 2022, and torrential rain and flooding in 2023), some longtime participants opted to take a break or phase out their annual treks to the desert. And many of those who did come were prepared for another potentially grueling week. This was reflected in generally sluggish ticket sales and a significant drop in attendance in 2024. For the first time in over a decade, it was possible to simply show up at the event and buy a ticket at the gate, just like in the early days of Burning Man.
An aerial view of Black Rock City 2024.
But for all the doom and gloom leading up to Burning Man 2024, it turned out to be a banner year. Except for a few windy afternoons and a bit of dust toward the end of the week, the weather was nearly perfect. The quality of the artworks was by all accounts very high. The theme camps were as brilliant, raunchy, and hilarious as ever. And the burning of “the man” was astonishing and spectacular.
All across the playa there were planned and unplanned performances by top-notch musicians, dancers, aerialists and fire spinners. From sunset till sunrise and beyond, the sounds of the world’s best-loved DJs — Rüfüs Du Sol, Tycho, Vintage Culture, Carl Cox, Diplo, Lee Burridge and countless others — emanated like a blissful soundtrack from the deep playa.
People gather at “the man” on the first evening of Burning Man 2024.
Burning Man has grown from a fringe countercultural experiment, one started by a handful of renegade artists and performers in San Francisco, to a globe-spanning cultural phenomenon that now draws up to 80,000 participants each year.
The annual convergence takes place on a dry lakebed in one of the remotest deserts of North America. For a few brief days, the ephemeral metropolis known as Black Rock City ranks among the largest communities in the state of Nevada.
It’s a place of breathtaking creativity — a coming together of freethinking artists, dancers, poets, philosophers, performers, DJs, musicians, designers, engineers, entrepreneurs and exhibitionists. It’s also a place of large-scale art installations, ingenious art cars, pulsating soundscapes and offbeat theme camps, all set against an uncommonly beautiful natural backdrop.
A windy afternoon at the Temple of Together, an installation by artist Caroline Ghosn and crew.
I’ve been attending Burning Man since the early 2000s and have seen it grow and evolve. I’ve watched as the event has been gradually embraced by the mainstream — as references to it have cropped up in song lyrics, on The Simpsons, and in speeches by President Obama. I’ve covered Burning Man for magazines and newspapers, contributed to documentary films and museum exhibits, and participated in academic symposia on the subject.
But as the event has evolved, I’ve also heard a growing chorus of complaints about how it’s been taken over by social media influencers, A-list celebrities, tech billionaires and the international jet set. Some longtime burners say the gathering isn’t what it used to be, that it’s sold out, “jumped the shark,” or been Instagrammed to death.
The concerns are valid. But what continues to astonish me is not that Burning Man has changed, but rather that it hasn’t changed more drastically. In 2024, the spirit of the gathering seemed much the same as it did when I first started attending 20-plus years ago. I’m also continually amazed by the steady influx of new participants and the incredible energy, drive, talent and ingenuity they bring to the desert year after year.
Naga and the Captainess, a large-scale installation by Cjay Roughgarden, Stephanie Shipman, and Jackie Scott.
Like any creative project, my Burning Man photography has changed and evolved over the years. Yet the basic impulse remains essentially the same — to try in some small way to document the sights and sounds of the gathering and to capture something of its creativity, beauty, weirdness and outrageous good fun.
Since 2009, I’ve been a member of Burning Man’s Documentation Team, a cadre of photographers who “shoot for the Man.” We do our best to document the event each year. Images have always had special function at Burning Man given its ephemeral nature. Black Rock City only exists for one week. Once it disappears and the desert is scrubbed clean, all that remains are the memories — and hopefully, some good pictures.
Artist Kirk Strawn and his crew built Big Red, and oversized Baja Bug, around the chassis of a 1959 Walter Crash Truck.
A few technical notes. In 2024, I used three cameras (two Canon R5s and a Canon 5D Mark IV) along with a drone (a DJI Mavic Pro). I brought out ten lenses but ended up using only four — a wide-angle zoom (15-35mm) and three primes (35mm, 85mm, and 135mm). As in previous years, I found myself preferring the simplicity, light weight and beautiful optics of the primes.
I get a lot of questions about my gear and how I protect it in such a harsh environment. The short answer is that I don’t. While I do avoid lens changes on the open playa, I’ve never found the heat, wind and dust to be a significant problem for my equipment.
That said, I did have a serious technical failure in 2024. One of my memory cards was corrupted and I lost more than 1,200 image files. This was the first time something like this had happened to me in over twenty years of shooting with digital cameras. It was a devastating loss. After I returned home, I had to write many disconsolate texts and emails to lovely burners whose portraits I had made or whose projects I had documented.
Two iconic people-powered kinetic sculptures: The Dreamcycle by Randall Gates (left) and Third Wheel by Fred Besch (right).
Special thanks as always to the wonderful artists and creators who allowed me to document their installations and projects. I’m also grateful to the many burners who freely consented to let me photograph them in the act of dancing, stilt-walking, fire-spinning, body-painting, or simply being beautiful. I don’t take that permission for granted. My art, such as it is, wouldn’t be possible without that open consent and participation. Thank you. 💛
What follows are some highlights from Burning Man 2024. For more pictures, check out the link at the bottom of the page — or skip directly to the complete set.
Burners gather in the pre-dawn twilight to catch the sunrise. The 2024 “man base” was the work of artist engineer Jen Lewin. Her installation, “The Other,” featured eight gracefully curved, canyon-shaped tentacles that wound as stairways and ramps, each leading to an upper and lower vantage point. As Lewin described the design, participants could move around the work gazing outward and inward, viewing the Man, the city, and each other.
Simon Bellamy, an artist from Bristol, United Kingdom, described his installation “Together For-never” as a paean to the impermanence of relationships.
Tree Circle, an installation by artists Eira Mooney of Sweden and Alquem of Colombia, consisted of seven hollowed out tree trunks made of natural bamboo, creating a circular open space to promote a sense of connectedness and “collective coherence.”
Amanda, a Burning Man participant from Oregon, strikes a pose next to “Release,” a 33-foot sculpture by San Francisco artist Dana Albany.
“Womantree,” a 2024 installation by Oakland artist Valerie Mallory was made up of dozens of plaster-cast figures like this one forged into a large tree of life.
Dust swirls beneath “Sky Gazing,” a psychedelic 200-foot canopy of ribbons hovering high above the ground like an aerial kaleidoscope. When the winds kicked up, the fabric ribbons produced a gentle melody, like the sound of a flowing river. The installation was created by Colorado artist Patrick Shearn and the Poetic Kinetics Studio.
“Liberty,” a mirror-polished stainless steel sculpture by artist Michael Benisty.
“Heave,” a ladder sculpture by Bay Area metal artist Michael Christian.
The larger-than-life traffic cone, “Coney McConeface,” was purportedly built to protect the citizens of Black Rock City from a dangerous geothermal cavity beneath the desert floor. The installation was created by New Zealand artist Chris “Kiwi” Hankins and the merry pranksters of the ConeCophony Collective.
“Project Empire” is a high-concept installation that’s part mutant vehicle, part sonic odyssey, part costume design and part performance art. It was created by the Bay Area artist duo Kyrsten Mate and Jon Sarriugarte.
Shelly the Crab is a kinetic remote-controlled crustacean and one of tiniest and best-loved mutant vehicles in Black Rock City. She’s seen here with her creator Bree Hoffman.
The sun rises behind the Man.
Marie Poliak, artist and creative force behind the Metaphoenix camp.
A creative take on the Queen of Hearts.
Performance artist Ali Luminescent surveys Black Rock City from a teacup perched on the top of a dying clock — because in Wonderland it’s forever teatime. The cup was part of a larger installation entitled “The End of Time” by artists Andrea Greenlees and Andy Tibbetts.
Burning Man co-founder Michael “Danger Ranger” Mikel.
Artist Michael Benisty.
The Billion Bunny March has become an annual tradition—some would say imperative—in Black Rock City. Bunnies from every dusty quarter of town congregate at the 6 o’clock keyhole, pledge the Bunny Oath, and march to the Man to liberate all furry sentient beings from the treachery of humanity.
A bunny who goes by the moniker Dress Code.
Chrissele and Jamen, a couple from Australia in matching steampunk ensembles.
Rave Digger
Bay Area artist and designer Bill Cass with his lovable but occasionally fearsome sidekick Copper.
An art car in the shape of a small Victorian house with a crow’s nest glides out to the deep playa with a long string of lights in tow. (The lights can also be seen in the next photo.)
At night, the Temple of Together resembled an enchanted crystal palace. The entrance consisted of an arch formed by two 30-foot hands joined in prayer.
The Fire Conclave — a collective of talented fire performers from around the world — puts on a show on Saturday night before “the man” burns. In this long exposure, fire spinners from the Exothermia troupe perform a tightly choreographed routine. A light streak from a passing ranger adds a bit of color to the composition.
The general consensus after the burn was that the spectacular fireworks display, followed by the detonation of a series multihued gas bombs and the subsequent immolation of the Man, set a new standard for pyrotechnic brilliance at Burning Man.
Artist and temple-builder Caroline Ghosn inside the Temple of Together.
2024 Temple Crew.
Flames engulf the Temple of Together in a solemn ceremony on the final night of Burning Man 2024.
An aerial view of Robot Heart in the deep playa after the crowds thinned out on the final morning of Burning Man 2024.
An aerial view of Black Rock City on the last day of Burning Man 2024.
