The Man of Mystery

The art installation was a black doorway, with cloth banners on either face, standing far out on the playa. Inside the doorway, concealed by the banners, there was just enough space to allow a man to stand there in concealment. The concept was to have the the “Man of Mystery” hide himself inside the doorway; an accomplice (me) would staple on the second banner, concealing him from view. He would have to be inserted into the installation far enough in advance that it wouldn't seem as though he were simply getting in and getting out. Rather, he would appear to materialize out of nothing, as though the doorway were a portal to other dimensions, or as though the silhouette painted on the banner had come to three-dimensional life. Having emerged at the specified time of 6:48P.M., just as the sun was getting low and shadows beginning to lengthen, he would walk determinedly away from the city. Hopefully onlookers who had read the fine print on the banner or heard the radio announcement would have gathered by 6:48, watched him emerge, and would follow him, asking him questions (which he would not answer). They were supposed to follow him as far as he went, even if that meant leaving the city. That was the idea, anyway.

The reality turned out to be different. Riding along with us to the playa was the young man I had recruited to be the “Man of Mystery.” His name was Shu. He was apparently of Japanese and Moroccan descent. He was perfect for the part as I conceived it: tall, very thin, wraith-like, with the ability to cover distance effortlessly, either walking or at an easy lope. A natural distance runner, if necessary he could simply outrun any pursuer and disappear from sight in the open playa beyond the boundary of Black Rock City, which that year was designated on maps as literally, “The Unknown.” Shu was perfect for the part because not only did he have the physical characteristics that I wanted, but he himself was a mystery.

But when the time came, he couldn't find the installation (How appropriate—the Man of Mystery wasn't there.), so I had to become the Man of Mystery myself. So I donned the black hood that he would have worn, and wore my own set of all-black clothes (never did get the gloves, so I had to go through with it bare-handed). Although a few people watched Julie seal me in the installation, they didn't stay till 6:48, even though it was only a few minutes away, and we begged them to stay, saying something interesting would happen. But they left. So at 6:48, no one was there. I ripped through the banner with a nail left over from construction, and immediately started walking toward the horizon. I walked as fast as I could, with long strides, not turning my head or paying any attention to anything other than my ultimate destination. I could see easily through the black hood, but it was opaque to those outside. Julie followed me on her bicycle, snapping a few pictures. Onlookers paid me no attention, and in fact, I seemed to be invisible. I reached the trash fence which is the boundary of the city, stepped over, and kept on going. A few hundred feet from the boundary, I turned around, looked back at the city, paused for a second, and then took off my mask and started walking back. The performance was over. I hadn't broken character. My version of the Man of Mystery was heavy, dogged, and robotic. Shu's version, if he had done it, likely would have been lighter, more graceful, more tinged by the quixotic indeterminacy which is characteristic of him.

But unfortunately I was the only one available, so the black figure you see in these pictures is me: short, stumpy, suggesting, in silhouette, an immature Bigfoot.

Although I'd committed to the Man of Mystery early, getting placement for it on the playa as an art installation, I procrastinated badly, and constructing the doorway and painting the banner was a desperate, all-night struggle before we left. This probably accounts for the haphazard look of the banner, which doesn't even come up to the usual carnival standard.

But we're talking about the camp sign, aren't we? Well, when I actually got to the playa, I found that my carefully pre-cut triangular plywood feet for the doorway were the wrong shape. I had to borrow a saw from another artist working on his playa installation, and cut the offending parts off. That left me with four plywood triangles. Waste not, want not, so I nailed them together into an impromptu “man” figure, attached a face, and staked it in front of our camp. I hadn't brought any paint in colors other than black, but our neighbor Alice let me borrow whatever I needed from her varied stores, and I used those colors for the face. Unfortunately, the paint was only a base, and I did the fine details in water-soluble felt pen. Artistically the result was a success, but only for about twenty minutes, or until it rained that afternoon and my insanely happy Cyclops started crying blue tears as his one magnificent eyeball started dissolving.

The actual sign, propped on the ground below, is by Julie.