Two and a half hours northeast of Reno, there is a place where no one lives. The high desert here is inhospitable in the extreme. Temperatures soar to over 100 degrees Fahrenheit during the day and fall to near freezing at night. Instead of sand, the dried lakebed ringed by mountains is comprised of fine alkaline dust which is hazardous to humans and can easily blow up into a dust storm. Yet for tens of thousands of tourists, this place – the setting for the annual Burning Man arts and culture festival - is “home.” How did this happen and what does it mean? The 2019 art project “Welcome Home” (pictured) encourages participants to ask these questions by literally juxtaposing the comfortable interior of a midcentury modern apartment (suspended 20 feet in the air) with its setting, an open expanse of desert visible not only through the windows, but through the missing walls. As a tourism and events scholar, my work plays with this tension in more subtle ways, delving into the emergent narratives of home at Burning Man to try to understand the continuing and evolving importance of community, place, and home in our increasingly transient modern world.