As it grows in both size and global recognition, so too do the gathering’s economic impacts—both in direct dollar benefits to Nevada and beyond—along with questions of whether its experimental economic principles have potential in the world beyond Black Rock City

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Burning Man had seen many summers in the desert before the organization dispensed its list of 10 principles in 2004, each based on a custom that had organically grown out of the event. Gifting, says founder Larry Harvey, emerged as the preferred system because “participants were unwilling to distance themselves from others through economic transactions.”

“Burning Man is like a big family picnic,” he told me. “Would you sell things to one another at a family picnic? No, you’d share things.”

The curious fact that a lot of money goes into creating a week that is free of money is not lost on Harvey. But those who peg this as a contradiction, he says, misunderstand the intent of the experiment.

“People get confused sometimes,” says Harvey, who unleashed Burning Man on the world with a foretelling bonfire at San Francisco’s Baker Beach in 1986. “They say that because we have a principle of decommodification, that we’re against money. But no, it’s not really about money. It would be absurd if we said we repudiated money. In order to assemble a city, we have to use market economics.”

The organization, which recently transitioned from an LLC to a nonprofit (Harvey says he is now the CPO—Chief Philosophical Officer), had a total of $26.8 million in expenditures for 2013. At the individual level, attending the event can easily run $1,000: the $380 festival ticket, camping necessities, a bicycle for getting around, food and water, transportation, etc.

“Even though you need no money out there, which is great, you need to do all of this shopping beforehand—all of your camping gear, food, shade, duct tape, body lights so you don’t get hit by a car,” says Karla MacGregor, proprietor of a personal shopping service called The Burner’s Market. “People using my website”—mostly Burners flying in from distant locales—“spend $700, easily.” MacGregor is part of a crop of “Burnerpreneurs” who have turned their love for Burning Man into businesses that cater to like-minded customers. The Morris Burner Hotel, a new “member-based hotel for the Burner community” in Reno, is another example.

And that’s just getting the basics. Participating—the “Participation” principle is key to creating a vibrant, fleeting city—can mean more of an investment. Some participate by donning elaborate costumes. Others form theme camps like Silicon Village, a 220-person group camp with an annual budget of $20,000, according to the camp’s former mayor, Rupert Hart. Expenses include a generator and a bar that offers happy hours.

Hart is also familiar with what it takes to bankroll another big-ticket Burning Man item—a mutant vehicle, or “art car.” His, called Joyism, has been to Burning Man 11 times and requires annual repairs, storage fees, and gas. And its small size means a relatively low outlay compared to many of Burning Man’s art cars, which take the form of massive covered wagons, seven-headed, fire-breathing metal beasts, and peculiar Victorian homes that Tim Burton would be proud of. A meandering tropical isle called Tiki Island debuted in 2013, fashioned with a second-story DJ tower and third-story lookout platform, thanks to $24,750 fundraised on the crowd-funding site Kickstarter.com.