compiled by Jose Sainz
From Discourse 18

INTRODUCTION

by Jose “El Coyote” Sainz

Department of Tethered Aviation (DOTA): A collection of talented, self-motivated individuals with common goals and visions of creating kite aerial displays that highlight the beauty and power of the wind.

At Burning Man, an annual gathering in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert, also known as “the playa,” DOTA displays and shares aerial images that allow participants the opportunity to see the endless sky as a canvas for the beauty of tethered art. Burning Man has always had a number of great objects in the sky that have captured the imagination of many who go there for the art. Balloons, arches, skydivers, and smoke rings have been seen but are never as interactive with the community as tethered objects can be…

We at DOTA have united with some of the most talented and giving people in the world. Not all of us are kitemakers, but we all love to play with the wind. We have artists at all levels and skills for what we need as a camp to endure and flourish in the desert, which is by no means an easy environment to survive.

We are a self-contained, self-reliant “family of friends” that gather yearly to create and share a bit of beauty and good fun with the community of Burning Man.

We are all very close friends from all over the world. We meet regularly at Burning Man to share the power of the wind and the feeling of full personal content. We have fliers, wind worshippers, musicians, fire dancers, metal sculptors, designers, teachers, creators and dreamers. DOTA hosts kite flys every afternoon at the mercy of the wind and randomly will create visual image displays comprised of kites, banners, and worshipping on the playa.

We have been involved in large-scale art installations consisting of 162 13-foot banners arranged in various wind labyrinth configurations. The entire group has been involved in the funding, manufacturing, and sponsoring of all the banners throughout the years. As a camp, we are a self-driven group of dreamers that hope to bring beauty and artistry to the sky of Black Rock City (the temporary city that is built at the Burning Man event) with an ever-changing display of kites carefully creating a visual image on an endless sky. Our mission is to create a minimal, elegant desert culture that supports our art.

I attended Burning Man for the first time in 2008. I packed up the old 1999 Ford Crown Victoria with as many kites and banners as I could fit, not knowing I was on my way to an event that would have a great impact on my life and the style of kites I would build from that day on.

Building kites and flying them at Burning Man is a difficult and unique experience. Hot and violent gusts of dusty wind are common happenings, and you are constantly challenged to control your kite. The hardship and tribulations are rewarded as the late afternoon wind settles into warm steady winds that create a moment at sunset we all refer to as “the Golden Hour.” It is like nothing I have ever experienced anywhere in this world with kites.

DOTA MEMORIES (PART I)

by Tylan Billings

For me, it all started on the beaches in the Point Reyes National Seashore, hanging out with Bob and Jennifer Snyder and their NASA related friends, some of whom had just attended the Burning Man arts festival in the desert in 1996. I’d known about if for years, having attended the one at Baker Beach in San Francisco in 1990 that got shutdown and necessitated moving it to the playa. My good friend Tristan K. had also been in 1996, and from the stories I was hearing I was just going to kick myself if I did not go!

Carter Emhart of the Hayden Planetarium and Don Davis, a Space illustrator, invited me to share in the shade and comfort of the Barbie Pleasure Dome in 1997. It had been made clear to me that the primary events were the sacrificing of art to the fire gods. I took “Six-Gun Elvis,” my life-size flying replica of the Andy Warhol Silverstone image and a lot of flameproof Kevlar line.

My first year in 1997, the people around a large collapsed bonfire were quite intrigued as I took Elvis into their circle and began to play line out with the silver and gray two- meter ROK shimmering in the glow of coals. I danced the tip of the spine above the collapsed fire, heat waves creating a shimmery image of Elvis like a long lost television signal struggling to light upon the earth once again. Upon the third dip to the coals, the distortion in the photo reflective fabric was directly heat generated. Melting and now aflame, I tugged Elvis to the heavens in full ignition, and at about 100 feet above he flamed out with the last image of him vaporizing on the remaining cross section of the frame, crucifixion-like. The crowd gasped and hooted. Even I was in awe and shock. It could not have gone better. I was hooked. Years later I incinerated Jerry Garcia in a similar manner.

Upon my return I told quite a few friends in the kite world about Burning Man, and I spoke with Tristan about my idea of having a kite art performance camp. I knew that at some point we would want to angle towards having prime playa frontage real estate at the festival so we could have full and safe control when landing and launching larger kites that others might bring.

Besides Tristan and a few people like Carter and Don from Barbie Pleasure Dome the previous year, we had John Reinschreiber from Portland show up with some larger kites and gear as well as a truck as anchor. Corey Jensen was an immediate classic presence, a great ball of energy, and the best running commentary ever.

As a new camp, we still had to piggyback on to another established group. So it was in 1999 that we had our own individual camp status, and more people from the world of kites attended and participated. As it turned out, every kitemaker that I invited who came out again the next year brought more friends and kites. This was at a time that the kite business in America was dwindling and I liked having an outlet for creating art with others to fulfill that communal need for creativity.

In 2000, Dean Jordan was out there with friends and a great shade structure that hosted many tents and the cooking and dining facility. Now with enough people in DOTA to run it, I volunteered to work for Burning Man to “give back.” I worked in distribution for the Black Rock Gazette, a daily newspaper published and delivered on the playa. We had enough newbies that I felt a good way to help them participate in Burning Man was to help with distribution of the paper. It seems that this also helped us connect to more and more people in far- flung corners of the city, which was now growing towards 30,000 people.

Eventually we had Daniel of Shanti Kites. Bill Oche from Maryland was out. We had an architectural archeology professor from Berkeley, Chris Benton, who was doing kite photography and snapped an incredible series from the sky of people all looking UP at the camera. By this time we had an incredibly beautiful artistic presence on the playa – artistic wind walls to curb dust, flags, structure galore, etc. It was not long before Marc Ricketts of Guildworks brought a whole team of performers and artists from Wisconsin with a school bus that served as a mobile viewing and performance platform.

When Tristan and I first conceived of the infrastructure, we wanted to support the camp. One of our inspirations as motorcyclists was to be able to support six or so motorcyclists who could not bring everything they may need. I did not ride a motorcycle out until my last year in 2003, but this thinking enabled us to support and provide for people who had to fly in to San Francisco, San Jose, or Reno last minute, which was a good thing in the end.

I wanted to put kites, kite makers, and the truly creative aspects of what we could do in front of an audience who was not used to kites. I also wanted American kite people to participate in more creative displays and flying that is more akin to what one may find at foreign festivals, and better music than the overworked Broadway crap constantly played at kite competitions.

DOTA MEMORIES (PART II)

by Anile Wood

My first year with DOTA was in 2003.

That is the year I met Ty, Shibumi, Barbie, Purple John, Tristan, (Garrett didn’t go that year because he was busy getting married), Dean, Snapper, Mort and Ginny, and I think Howard and Heather were there too. Purple John had brought a few folks from Portland along, and it was Marc Ricketts’ first time.

Camp consisted of several Moss wings, tents under the “camo” for the first time, a box truck that served as storage and kitchen, a couple of RVs, and a couch out next to the Esplanade. There was some renegade kite flying/burning happening, and Marc’s magical windless performances. On Thursday there was a kite fly, which was magical, and we tried to get as many kites in the air as possible. But other than that, kite flying was not really a priority. I remember asking Dean why no one flew kites in the kite camp, to which he replied, “That’s what we do in real life. That’s like work for us.”

Dean in many ways became the center of our camp. He had the energy and dedication to keep it going through the many personnel changes that happened, and he had the connections to invite the movers and shakers of the kiting world each year. He took to heart the message and mission of DOTA, to spread the joy of kites to the people of Black Rock City.

Over the following years, a lot of changes happened within camp, and perhaps the most significant was some time along the way when we decided that a priority would be to put kites in the sky every day. See, our camp is a 100% participation camp, and there are so many little details and chores involved in simply running the camp from day to day that most of us were wearing many hats, and kite flying was like icing on the cake when we had a spare moment. Many times we needed to simply take a rest, or perhaps it was our only opportunity

to take a bike ride to see the city. Scotty Skinner and Blake Pelton came that year and that was their “job” to be instigators for the flying. No matter what was happening elsewhere in camp, when that wind came up, they agreed to get the kites out and into the sky. They did a great job. We followed their lead, and our kite flies became not only a habit, but our top priority.

We learned a lot. Some years our kite fly was a disappointment in that we were ready to put hundreds of kites up, but the wind disappeared. Eventually we woke up and changed our kite fly day from one specific day and time, to every day “whenever the winds appeared.” And “whenever” turned out to be, most dependably, an hour before the sun goes down behind the mountain range, or, as we call it, “the Golden Hour.”

Somewhere in this timeline, Jose came to us. This was significant. Jose brought tons of beautiful kites and had the passion and calm demeanor to make large-scale installations happen, even when safety freak me was concerned about tying unguarded lines to the ground that could become potential hazards for a vast population of partygoers. Together as a camp we created safety guidelines that were revolutionary enough to garner respect and trust among the organizers and the community.

Another evolution in DOTA’s timeline was when Jose brought handcrafted banners. We fell in love with them and wanted to feature them as much as possible. We began to envision large-scale art projects, and I asked Jose if he would like to do it. He taught us how to sew banners, and we made it a camp-wide endeavor, where we could each sew a banner, or sometimes 20, at our homes, spread all over the country, and bring them together for the first time when we gathered at Burning Man, and make an art installation, designed and directed by Jose, which truly represented community cooperation at work.

Soon entered Tim Elverston and Ruth Whiting. They brought with them an artistic vision and coined the term we now use to “curate the sky.” Together, Tim, Ruth, and Jose created a vision of something more than lots of kites in the air. At this point, the daily Golden Hour flies evolved into canvasses painted with colors and shapes, with an artist’s perspective as if one is composing a painting or choreographing a performance. Coupled with Ruth’s wind worshipping and Jose’s wearable dancing wings, the entire playa became that painted canvas, from surface to sky.

And it caught on. Whenever DOTA’s rituals (as we prefer that term to “performance”) begin, crowds gather. Photographers flock, people stop their bikes and cars and watch entranced, and if anyone wants to join in, we talk about our vision and hand them a kite line, or perhaps a silk. Sometimes these rituals are intensely personal and create an atmosphere of holding an auspicious moment of time. Sometimes they are outgoing and inviting. However the occasion manifests itself, it is truly inspired by the love of kites, the respect of wind and form, and the togetherness of community.

There are so many people who are involved in creating DOTA each and every year, and every person counts. Whether it is building camp, doing paperwork and applications, organizing dinners, cleaning and packing – the tasks are endless. But everything happens for two purposes: to celebrate the art of the kite and to come together as a family and community.

DOTA MEMORIES (PART III)

by Dean Jordan

I met Tristan, Garrett, and Victor in 1999, as they prepared to go to the Burn. I had decided to go in 2000 but was truly burnt out on the default world kite scene. Little did I know that Burning Man would turn out to be one of the greatest places on earth to fly a kite.

I did not end up camping with DOTA until my third burn in 2002, brought in by Ty to kick the extras that Purple would inevitably bring along with him (some we kept over the years) and to keep cars out of the camp.

Burning Man allowed me to really be myself and, while I was still fairly burnt by the default world kite scene I was involved with, Burning Man started showing me another side of kite flying possibility.

While I have about a million memories of how it all started, my first is Snapper and I driving up to our spot, being the second and third in, and some strange chick with a tent was already there. Thinking my duties had already begun, I was not prepared for the awesomeness of my first meeting with Anile. Her positive outlook and can-do attitude infected me immediately and helped me establish a “think the best” instead of “think the worst” attitude. That meeting began a lifelong love and friendship.

Since this is a story about kite flying and kiting, I’ll skip ahead to who I think really began to bring the camp towards what would later prove to be a more inclusive kiting attitude for us all, and that’s Tim Elverston and Ruth Whiting.

Tim really showed us the way in regards to a holistic kite way for our camp (for me) and changed many attitudes in regards to how we conducted business. Before Tim joined us, meals would often begin right at “the Magic Hour,” which as we all now know is the best time to fly. Meanwhile, Ruth (”Ultralight”) began her tenure as the most amazing Dome Mistress in the history of the event (I challenge anyone anywhere to build a dome faster or happier) and began the creation myth of the Wind Worshippers™ through the Free Your Mind™ institute.

Our kite giveaways have also been amazing. And we had our Red Line Project, which was a true camp project, with 90% of all camp members having something to do with building or flying the kite and long tail built as a tribute to Tal Streeter’s amazing vision. Of course, the year we brought it, the wind never got right for flying. So on a Thursday, against every rule and regulation, we put out 600 feet of line, attached it to Little’s truck, and with me driving and Too Tall, Tim, and Little in the back, set out to fly the kite for its first fly. Naturally, Tim and I realized instantly that the bridle was inverted and backwards, though Red Line didn’t seem to mind at all. (This was its one and only flight with the upside down bridle.) Making several circles around the open playa, we attracted the attention of every official possible and soon had an armada of epic proportions chasing us down.

Mumbling every line of “BS” I could think of in a loud voice, we flew for as long as possible to allow our photographers, most notably Topher, who almost killed himself getting some great shots, to snap as many as possible. When I finally called for the landing and slowed the truck down, I was surrounded by the head of the DMV (Department of Mutant Vehicles), the Black Rock City Rangers, the real BLM (Bureau of Land Management) Rangers, a plethora of assorted law enforcement leaches, and various and sundry badge-toting types.

Exiting the truck as they sauntered rapidly towards me, I raised my hands high and shouted: “Gentlemen, before you begin to talk to me, I just want you to all know one thing. THIS EVENT IS OVER! I know you all have a lot to say, but remember, IT’S OVER!” This had the desired effect, as they were all eager to tell me how I could not do what we had so obviously just done. There was a pause before they all hurriedly began to speak, in which I inserted: “Admit it, it was awesome!” to which each and every one assented.

There have now been so many great moments for us that they are too numerous to mention, though I would like to recall our fly at the Euchronian’s amazing structure, affectionately known as “the Belgium waffle,” where Tim and I melted our kites as Topher made his way around the whole thing flying his Man kite.

One year we had three Ghost Deltas up at the temple burn. As the wind continued to increase, the one I was flying became super stable and went down. The crowd imagined it was planned, thus beginning a tradition of flying kites at the temple burn, mainly due to the efforts of one “Coyote.”

I cannot say enough about our own Coyote, someone who never slept and practically walked his feet off his first two years.

Certainly our meeting with Kiwi, the EnZed designer and builder of the temple one year, was another classic DOTA moment, and was preceded by an art car driving by and the participants yelling out “DOTA, DOTA, WE LOVE YOU GUYS.” For me, this was truly a moment when I thought all of our hard work was paying off, as we did not personally know a single person on that art car, but they all knew our camp and stopped to give us many treats and share drinks with us, along with thanking us for the kiting over the years.

I also must mention our Exodus kite fly, again brought about by Tim (playa name “Spectrayouwish”) Elverston, who had asked the question the year before, “Why do we leave on Monday? Why can’t we stay an extra day and fly kites for the community during Exodus’ long waiting lines to get out?”

The hilarity of us trying to get out next to the exit line and then back into the event while driving everyone in two vehicles alone was worth the effort, but then our impromptu kite festival for all of the poor people stuck in line to enjoy as our parting gift will forever remain one of the high points of my personal time with my family, The Department of Tethered Aviation.

Many great things have come with our history, along with the amazing number of kitefliers we have brought to the burn. Some things that stand out that made flying at Burning Man different were: the unpredictable desert winds, the changing conditions, the amazing response, never once having to bear that question I hate so much in the default world of “How much is that kite?”, along with sharing our passion, often with unexpected results, including tears of joy, meeting of old friends, and just the joy of sharing something that we love so much with others.

While the future of DOTA at Burning Man may be uncertain, I know that we will meet again, fly again together, and always be close to each other no matter the distance. What changed my life were the people.

For me, now and forever, the magic of DOTA can never be understated. I feel like I could write a book.

Thank you Ty, Tristan, Garrett, Anile for welcoming me into what would forever change my life. Working with you, along with all of the fine people of DOTA, bringing LVT Dave to the playa, many of my friends, integrating so much of what is good about kiting while leaving the absurd accouterments of organized kiting behind, to simply fly, enjoy each other’s company and be, has been an ultimate aoxomoxoa for me. To each and every one of us, I’m always grateful. ◆