One day, long from now, grandparents will sit their little 'uns on their knees and tell them a story that begins like this:

"Once upon a time, in the middle of a desert in driest Nevada, thousands of people gathered to create a temporary city dedicated to the creative spirit. These people wanted to see what could be achieved if their hearts and minds were allowed to stretch without restriction. At the end of the week, the people disbanded and took with them every trace of the temporary city. They went back to their jobs and their lives, but they were changed...."

That’s “Burning Man,” and last summer Archetype Group sent a squad of seven explorers there, an investment in changed perceptions and an expanded reservoir of creativity. (Tickets for this year's festival, August 25 - September 1, go on sale this week.)

Burning Man was the brainstorm of Larry Harvey, a northern Californian with, by his own admission, a grandiose imagination. In 1986, he and a friend marked Summer Solstice at San Francisco’s Baker Beach by lighting a wooden stick figure of a man as 20 onlookers basked in its glow.

Since then, the number of participants in what is now a week-long festival of wide-open creativity, has grown exponentially. Last summer 29,000 people from all predilections and parts of the globe were drawn to Nevada’s Black Rock desert. They gather for different reasons--to construct giant sculptures out of neon and fiberglass, to discover their least inhibited selves, to be up to the challenge of desert conditions.

Only a few rules govern the event: no open fires, no spectators (only participants), and no vending. (To procure food, water, or any other necessities, participants barter.)

The impact of Burning Man has stuck with those who made the trek and has been passed on to all of Archetype, making it more resourceful, creative and better at regenerating its creative energy.

Creative Director and Principal Jim Rivett enthuses that the festival was "a visual circus of creative energy." By night, the desert filled with people dressed in frog masks, and cars were outfitted like fish and sea creatures shooting flames in the air. There were video projections on bizarre surfaces, self-powered merry-go-rounds and a ship made from burnt pianos--all fuel for creative fire.

It was a crash course in raw desert living; despite the cover of their pop-up tents and an Airstream trailer, to experience Burning Man you had to withstand high winds, storms, and the relentless sun. Surgical masks were among the most valuable items. Archetype President, Paul Meinke, used them to sleep through the cold, dusty nights; and during a sandstorm, Rivett donned one to head into the center of it all.

A week of visual stimulation and youthful abandon rejuvenated the heart and the senses. An especially moving sculpture was the Temple of Joy, a three story building constructed of scrap wood that participants covered with names of people who had been personally significant. The chance to reconnect with one's center, says Rivett, allowed us to become playful again. Throughout the week, creative acts were infused with play, and play itself was infused with creativity.

If you or someone you know wants to learn more about Burning Man, go to www.burningman.com.

(Jessica Nordell for Archetype Group. © January, 2003)