The
annual revelry in the desert brings in millions of dollars, despite its
anti-capitalist vibe.
Money
is frowned on at Burning Man, the annual desert bacchanal that runs through
Monday in Nevada. Participants are instead supposed to adhere to the
festival’s feel-good philosophy of giving gifts like glow bracelets,
sparklers, and vodka shots.
The
group that puts on Burning Man, meanwhile, rakes in millions of dollars from
selling tickets and parking passes to more than 60,000 attendees. It’s a
complex operation with a full-time staff and a huge budget that dwarfs many
big businesses.
Burning
Man has long been led by its co-founder, Larry Harvey, who helped build it up
from an informal gathering on San Francisco’s Baker Beach in 1986 to an
international happening. Ostensibly, it’s an art event and free-zone for
“radical self-expression.” In reality, the event’s vibe has morphed into a mix
of flower power, around-the-clock rave, and Silicon Valley wheeling and
dealing.
Earlier
this year, Burning Man’s owners fulfilled a promise to place the event—long
operated by a private company—
under
the control of a non-profit
organization. The switch was partly intended to mollify critics who accused
the organizers of hypocrisy for espousing an anti-corporate ethos while
operating Burning Man as a business.
In
a blog post, the organizers said the change would allow the event to survive
beyond the lifetime of its owners. “Our mission has always been to serve the
community,” they wrote, “and a non-profit public benefit corporation is the
most socially responsible option to ensure and protect the future of Burning
Man.”
Details
about the new ownership structure are complex and, at least for now, mostly
shielded from the public. What is clear is that the event continues to cash in
on people’s appetite for baking in the heat on a dry lakebed during the week
preceding Labor Day.
Burning
Man’s organizers don’t say how much money they make in ticket sales. But it’s
pretty easy to calculate—around $25 million—based on what they say publicly
about the number of tickets sold (63,000) and their cost (anywhere from $190
to $650), plus $40 parking passes. The event also collects fees from
commercial photographers and filmmakers, according to various reports.
A
spokesman declined to comment about Burning Man’s finances or its switch to
being a non-profit. Instead, he pointed to an annual statement by the event’s
owner showing the substantial costs of organizing the revelry.
Last
year, salaries ate up just over $7 million, according to the financial
document. Fees for use of federal land cost another $4.5 million while taxes
cost $1 million. Building a temporary city in the middle of nowhere is
expensive. Toilets cost nearly $1 million (think of hundreds of
porta-potties), medical services ate up $450,000, and dust abatement (i.e.
trucks with water) burned through $260,000. Meanwhile, building “The Man,” a
giant wood statue that is traditionally set ablaze on the event’s final night,
cost $400,000 for labor, pyrotechnics, and timber.
In
all, Burning Man said it spent $26.8 million in 2013. That figure includes
money to support artists and donations to Nevada schools and charities.
With
the change to non-profit status, Burning Man will have to make public its
revenues and the salaries for top staff members. But those disclosures won’t
be made until next year, along with additional details about the shift in
ownership. It is unclear, for example, whether the non-profit bought out
Burning Man’s original owner, Black Rock City LLC. Another possibility is that
the company’s board, led by Harvey and five other shareholders, voted to
donate their stakes.
Technically,
Burning Man will remain under Black Rock City LLC, which Harvey helped to
establish 24 years ago. But that company is now a subsidiary of the
non-profit, known as Burning Man Project.
The
goal is to expand Burning Man by creating events outside of Nevada. Whether
they’ll use the Burning Man name is unknown at this point.
John
Law, a Burning Man co-founder who had a falling out with Harvey, complained
about some of the changes at the event. Although he praised the artists, and
free thinkers who still attend, he took issue with how it has become a
“commodity” and a “Disneyland for attorneys and accountants on ecstasy.”
“It’s
become Silicon Valley’s vacation,” Law said.
Indeed,
the influx of wealth is a big point of contention among long-time attendees.
Tech executives, in some cases, arrive in private jets and spend their time in
luxury camps catered with sushi and tended to by personal valets. How much
extra money, if anything, the event collects from such camps is unclear.
Law
sued Black Rock City LLC in 2007 in an unsuccessful attempt to dissolve the
partnership and put the “Burning Man” name in the public domain so that it
could be used by anyone who wanted to. Ultimately, the case was settled in
arbitration with Black Rock City buying out his stake in the event.
All
the money now collected at Burning Man was inconceivable to Law when he cut
ties with the event nearly two decades ago. At the time, he said it was in
debt and that his credit cards were maxed out. If it was up to him, it would
have remained much smaller and idealistic, in keeping with what he saw as it
original mission.
“Burning
Man becoming one of these financial behemoths—it’s pretty ironic,” Law
said.
