Sandman Creations
Sculpture by Sean Sobczak


I went to Burning Man for the first time in 2001. During the course of that week, my senses were bombarded with an endless flow of stimuli. But out of all the madness, imagination and breath-stealing beauty that I encountered that week, the art cars stood out as my favorite part of the experience. They were all absolutely magical. Unfortunately, I didn't get to ride on one. The closest I came was getting a squirt of some sweet gooey substance on a cookie from the "taste-mobile." So naturally, I was thrilled when a friend told me of his plans to build an art car for the next year's burn. I got so excited that by the end of our conversation, he had almost convinced me to build one too.

I spent every waking hour of the next week daydreaming of giant glowing seahorses pulling my friends and I through the desert. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. I had to make it a reality. I was going to build an art car.

I figured I could base it around a golf cart. I'd build three or four seahorses, each around 4 feet tall and attach them to the cart, then decorate the cart with an underwater theme. The details would come later. I was itching to start and the seahorses were the only thing I was sure of, so I headed off to the hardware store. I came home with a mountain of pvc pipe, wire and tools. That night I started the first seahorse.
Click the images for larger versions and more info.



By the time I finished the first seahorse, I realized the scope of the project was changing. This one alone was six feet tall and it was supposed to be the small one. That said, I was going to need to start thinking about something bigger than a golf cart.

I began envisioning a VW Bug or a small pickup with three seahorses lined up in front of it like a drawn chariot. The chariot itself wasn't really clicking with me though. Then one day, in a letter to some friends, I signed off with, "love and seahorses" and that phrase just stuck in my head. Within a few days, the chariot turned into a heart and the car was named.



With the first phase done, it was time to start the car, but first I had to find one. After a chat with my "technical advisors," I decided the best bet was to get a van. We could extend the driving controls to the roof and make a rooftop platform with couches for the driver and passengers. That way, we'd actually be outside, taking in all the sights and sounds around us, while we were riding around.



Now that we had the rigging for the seahorses completed, the roof top platform secured and the driving controls extended to the roof, it was time for the "Love."



With only a few days left to pack up before heading out to the desert, it was time to finally assemble everything and give it a trial run. It was an exciting night. I spent the evening hurriedly plugging in cords, screwing on clamps, attaching the sculptures, making my list and checking it twice. Finally, it was time. After months of hard but joyous work, my vision would be realized. I could barely breath.

I started the generator that we had placed in the back of the van to power the thousands of Christmas lights, hundreds of feet of el wire, 7 disco balls, 10 flood lights and the stereo. Nothing. I tried again. It started up this time and everything lit up for a second, then flickered out as the generator stuttered to a halt. I tried again, and again it lit up for a few seconds before it died. This time though, it started smoking. I decided to give it a few minutes.

I talked to Paul, my right hand man. It looked like the generator was going to be too small, but that was fine. We would use a larger generator when we got there. Meanwhile, this generator had no intention of starting again.

I wasn't about to let this little setback ruin my night though. I was still going to have my trial run, even if it was without the lights and music. I hopped up onto the roof undaunted and inserted the key in the ignition. I took a deep breath and gave it a twist. The engine did an amazing impersonation of the generator. I turned the key again. The van gave a shudder but that was all. It had been working fine up until now, so I tried again. And again. This time the engine roared to life... and quickly backfired, blowing a considerable ball of fire from the tail pipe, through the fabric of the heart. The van died. I decided not to try again.

I climbed down and walked over to Paul, who was looking at me calmly with his arms crossed and a ghost of a smile on his face. I turned back to look at the scarred heart. We stood there for a moment until Paul broke the silence. "You know man... love's never perfect." On that note, we called it a night. There was apparently a little more to do before it was ready.

Over the next few days, we made the needed repairs (thanks Ben!), packed up and headed out.

We planned our arrival at Burning Man a few days early to set up our theme camp. The first night we were there, I assembled the car and we took it out for a spin. There were still a few power issues to work out, but they were minor. We were there, the car was working and the months of blood, sweat and tears had paid off. It was incredible.

In all her glory...



Here are some of my favorite pictures of Love and Seahorses that I've found around the net.







It was an amazing week, filled with so much revelry, adventure and delight that I still have a hard time believing it really happened. A huge "thank you" to all the people that volunteered their time and talents to help make this project possible, especially Patrick for the inspiration, and Paul and Donna for all their help and guidance. It meant the world to me.


WOW! That was great.