Inside the Civilian Safety Zone

Editor's Note: My North Texas reporter, Mumbles P., finally caught up with Simple Civilian just before Flipside. Here is his report, with information on how you can help Simple's next project. --Kit

Addison and Pyropolis, TX (by Mumbles Prometheus, Web Content Team) -- The walls of the apartment were draped with what looked like drop cloths, splattered in a chaotic array of colors and patterns. The aesthetic was somewhere between Jackson Pollock and the tagged up side of a building. On the stub of wall above the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room was a printed out banner that read in large letters "Civilian Safety Zone."

"A lot of times I hang them from the walls of one of my inflatables," the man in front of me was saying, gesturing concisely around him. "I let people paint on them and stuff. Sort of collaborative." He was an affable looking guy in baggy gray jeans and a white t-shirt and appeared to be, I guessed, of south-east Asian descent. I would have asked in an attempt to confirm, but aside from the slight element of description that it would add, I didn't feel like it was worth being rude enough to bother. Outside on the apartment lawn, an enormous origami balloon slowly deflated.

So, I'd finally gotten ahold of Simple Civilian. It was no ones fault, but between confusion, loss of Internet and phone service, and mismatched schedules I'd encountered every conceivable problem that a journalist could have attempting to track down his subject. My photographer, Matt, was already out at Pyropolis helping with load in. But I'd finally done it anyway. Finally tracked him down.

As I'd approached the apartment, a familiar sense of unease that my stomach always fills with -- just before the possibility that I screwed something up and am in the wrong place collapses and I actually meet my subject -- running strong. This guy was a serious, venerable Burner. He'd been going since the beginning, the second year the event had happened and the first it had actually been called Burning Flipside. I shook his hand.

"Glad you could make it," he said. His handshake was firm enough, but easygoing. I followed as he led me through the breezeway where stairs led up to other anonymous apartments on higher floors and out onto a small rhombus of grass where two men and a woman, all with the spirited "don't give a fuck" carriage of longtime Burners, stood around the art Simple had made and would not be taking to Flipside.

It was about half-inflated, and the weak little blower fan they'd recruited for the task was not measuring up. But the intent was still clear, and it was evident it was the work of someone who knew his medium. Bama -- short for Alabama -- the woman, explained to me that they had taken an iron and melted sheets of clear plastic drop cloth to itself in the origami shape but that they still had a little more work to do on it. A few more flaps to iron down.

She had curly hair dyed maroon, and would be my contact for Camp No Promises out at Flipside, where the balloon would be set up. The other two were Patrick, and Mike, a large man with a flaming red mohawk, a Gandalf length beard the same color and a laugh to match them both.

It was a sad but these days a common state of affairs that they laid out for me: Simple wouldn't be able to make it out to Apache Pastures because he was hard up, looking for a job and couldn't afford to spend four days away from the search. It seemed a shame and a waste of his evident talent that he would have to resort to wage labor, economic times too tough to make it as an independent artist.

He explained all this through the translucent membrane of the balloon It blurred out his form slightly and lent to him an element of not-quite-Banksy-esque anonymity that I felt was appropriate, considering the difficulties I'd had tracking him down. It was a satisfying, if dim, feeling that maybe the article I was writing about him would alert enough members of the Flipside community to his plight that one of them would have some sort of opportunity available that could help him out.

Eventually the others left -- there was a bad storm coming and they wanted to get home -- and Simple showed me around the Safety Zone. He had a rather extensive collection of prior projects, including a giant thumb print made of people's inked thumb prints, and was full of ideas for further projects and showed me a couple demos, including a submarine style inflatable that would build off of the balloon going up outside and years of similar projects. Maybe his most ambitious idea to date.

"I usually use them as an inflatable studio or gallery," he told me as he described an art prize he'd been to recently. "I put lights in them and let people paint and draw and stuff. It usually ends up looking pretty cool. And it folds up into half of a sleeping bag."

At some point I had to go too in order to beat the storm -- which I didn't -- and promised him to make contact with Bama out at Apache Pastures to see it once it was set up. Between the controlled chaos of the burn and an unfortunate set of circumstances, this ended up being harder than we intended, but we managed to make it work by Burn Night.

What had happened is that the lightweight polyethylene cloth had blown up out of the trailer it had been going down to Pyropolis in, and after a desperate search, it had been found, run over by at least one car. But they made it work nonetheless. Got it up, patched and a little deformed, but working and lit from the inside. When I saw it, a guy was sitting, meditating in the midst of the ring of lights and "had been in there for a while" according to Bama; the anonymity of it struck me as being just about right. Identity comes unstuck when people are burning, and beautiful little coincidences occur everywhere.

Would it have reaffixed things had the artist been out there to explain his work to me in context, or only have accelerated the unsticking? I prefer to believe the latter, what with the breadth of Simple Civilian's reputation. But every Burner is responsible for coming up with their own meanings for what happens out there, so you'll have to decide for yourself. Until next year anyway.

Editor's Note: Simple is already hard at work on his next, and maybe most ambitious project: a F.L.E.E.T. of inflatable watercraft. We hope to cover more about this project in the future. In the meantime, Simple is asking the community to donate to the project, which will appear at Burning Flipside, Myschievia, Art Prize and other events around the state and country. If you are interested in contributing, visit this fund-raising page. --Kit

Interested in more Burner art? Support Ouroboros, Flipside's fiery offering to Burning Man! Visit the Flipside CORE Blog or contribute to the Ouroboros Kickstarter.

Photo: I.C.E.-P.A.C. inflated at Simple's home, from the video tour.

Mumbles is generally known for his big mouth and his eloquent fingers. He can often be found around the Dallas area, drinking too much coffee and expounding on a variety of subjects he knows a (very) little something about.