Goldfield

Goldfield is one weird place, and I mean that in the best way possible. Like a little slice of Burning Man in the form of an eccentric ghost town that still maintains a small population and a limbo-like existence, Goldfield is also home to a small fleet of art cars—they’ve been to BM and are easily spotted on the main road through town. The cars are bizarre, complex, dirty, and mesmerizing in an apocalyptic sort of way. When I showed up and started poking my head around, a duo of local guys in their 50s appeared to share the lore and appropriate Google search words for more info on the cars, created by a man named Rocket Bob.
The rest of Goldfield seems to take its cues from Rocket Bob’s cars. Found-object decorations dominate the dusty aesthetic. Wandering around, you don’t necessarily know what’s derelict and what isn’t, whether a building is occupied or not, what is garbage and what is…art? Like Burning Man, Goldfield avoids definition and blurs the lines between past and present, real and imagined.