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(July 2, 2006) --
There were forecasts of heavy rain, and, indeed,
several interludes of fire's dreaded adversary
showered the event, but in the end the third annual
FireDrums went on, more intimate for the threat of a
deluge.
Perhaps the rain kept the spectators away. Last year,
there seemed to be a lot of people who were there more
for the party. This time, it was all about fire and
the drumming.
FireDrums was first held at Pismo Beach in Oceanside
in 2004. The year following it was moved to Red, White
and Blue Beach just outside of Santa Cruz where it was
also held this year, from April 14 to 16. About 250
people attended, camping in tents over the weekend.
The event’s promoter, Sky, has talked of moving it
again next year and also of the possibility of making
it biannual as interest grows.
Sky is quick to point out that FireDrums is its own
unique event, not one of the regional Burns that
recreate, in a smaller way, Burning Man. “The vision
of FireDrums was—and is—to bring together both fire
artists and drummers to share knowledge in a place
dedicated to that and only that,” he said. Black Rock
City "has been a very inspirational place for so many,
but there is so much going on there that it’s
difficult to gather a solid core of fire artists and
drummers for any length of time. Also there are many
who haven't yet made it to Burning Man.”
We arrived Friday afternoon during the second day of
the event. After helping build a dome with the rest of
my campmates from Sacramento’s fire troupe, SaDa
Fuego, I put up my tent and then took a walk down to
the beach.
For those of you who have not been to Red, White and
Blue beach, the site of the local monthly beach Burn
for San Francisco Bay Area Burners, the place is a
paradise. The small valley foots a freshwater creek
that ebbs out onto a large crescent-shaped beach
snuggled between flora- and fauna-fringed cliffs with
breakers rising up between them.
I walked past the staging area where most of the fire
performances would occur and watched as a few
volunteers filled a wheelbarrow with sand to fill in
the puddles that marred most of one side. Within
moments I was recruited, and even though it was hard
work I found it fulfilling and fun. When the last
puddle was filled I turned my attention to the beach.
Small knots of people were scattered to each end, some
with a more playful aura, while others seemed nearly
as formal as a specialized training course at a trade
convention, albeit with a backdrop of the Pacific
Ocean rolling up behind them and somewhat more
colorful attire beneath the occasional beaded
dreadlocks and oft-pierced visages. The fire dancers
worked out intricate moves with the passion and
determination of any serious athlete. These sessions
filled the daylight hours throughout the weekend.
The sense of community was just as warm as at any
other Burn-like gathering and there were plenty of
hugs to go around. It’s always amazing when you
realize you recognize someone from some completely
obscure moment in time lost at the edges of your
memory and then they remind you it was laughing
together at some band of traveling zombies out on the
playa last August. “Oh yeah . . . That was it!”
Things kicked up a notch when night fell. Everywhere
you looked people carried their gear toward the sound
of the drums and the glow of center camp. At the
performance area, groups of fire dancers gathered
around the burn barrels to discuss moves and
techniques while awaiting their turns. Groups of
drummers talked shop while peeking up at the sky from
beneath temporary shade structures. Every few minutes
someone would light up out on the beach and glowing
reflections would illuminate the estuary.
Sometime after midnight the clouds opened up and the
rain fell hard. Fortunately, it lasted only a few
minutes and once it was over, although the crowd had
thinned, the drumming and the fire dancing resumed. It
was during these late hours that some of the more
intimate and breathtaking performances took place.
Around 4:30 on Saturday morning I happened to be
sitting to the side of the circle with a group of my
campmates.
Our mostly whispered conversation was a conflict of
beauty and silence. Someone pointed up the fierce
light of a full moon as it peeked through ominous
clouds. “No, it was full last night,” a barely audible
voice insisted. Tired or burnt and sleep were often
alluded to and then shushed away. I glanced over at
the fuel dump and wondered if anyone else was going to
light up.
Over on a makeshift bench a group crowded around a
burn barrel. I was about to call it a night when
someone dipped wicks over the edge of the barrel and
pulled out two lanterns of fire swinging from the ends
of two lengths of distinctively complacent chain. The
individual who looked up from behind these swaying
vials of light looked part alien and part magician.
There was a sense that something special was about to
happen.
got up, walked over and stood behind those seated on
the bench as this creature started doing his thing. I
have a feeling everyone watching would have been
mesmerized into oblivion had Vatra, leader of the San
Francisco-area fire troupe the Pyronauts, not been
present to banter throughout the spin. “No one is
going to believe that Arashi actually spun,” he
claimed.
At times Arashi looked entirely in control and at
other times he looked entirely under the control of
his poi. Part juggler circus freak, part martial
artist, part break dancer, part Texas bull whipping
rope swinging desert dreaming shaman, he moved in the
most poetic herky jerky momentous on the verge of
inert fashion I had ever seen—incorporated into fire
dancing. He continually stepped into his performance
only to stand back and watch it unfold before him as
if he were just another spectator who just happened to
be attached to the ends of his arms.
His wicks burned for a long time and when it was
finally over there was a collective “Wow.” And then we
were left in a stunned silence. With no cameras or
video cameras present it was as if, as someone would
later say, it didn’t happen. I headed back to camp to
call it a night.
When I look back on FireDrums I think Arashi’s
performance exemplifies the significance of the event.
The best parts of it are what were shared on an
intimate level, between individual components of the
community. There are of course the larger parts going
on the entire time that everyone shares together, but
it’s those unique little secrets found out on the
periphery or when everyone else has gone in that made
it a special experience.
“In comparison to last year,” Sky said, “though the
numbers were a little less, due to Mother Nature, the
vibe was still very positive and we had some amazing
fire artists and the drummers added a really awesome
vibe.”
And that is what FireDrums is all about.
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Daylight beach photos: Waldemar Horwat
(naturalturn.fotki.com)
All night photos: Anthony Peterson
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