To some, it was a weird bonfire. To others, it was a community art project writ large. For a likely smaller segment of people, it was a spiritual or emotional experience akin to—if not on par with—the fiery release of Burning Man’s climactic titular event. And then there were folks like me, just glad to see a large-scale Downtown happening with the potential to bring together many of its inhabitants and possibly draw from other neighborhoods.

I’m not sure Saturday night’s burning of Las Vegas’ second Life Cube Project actually united Downtown’s diverse populace, or attracted that many people from other parts of the city, but if you took the whole scene in from a distance—and ignored the social-media peanut gallery—it felt like it did. It was endearing to see folks from every possible walk of life, niche, age group, belief system, etc. hanging out in the formerly blighted area, even if some were unsure why exactly they'd come to watch a large, decorated box burn.

I saw Bernie and Hillary supporters hanging out together, despite having just battled it out at the Clark County Democratic Convention earlier that day. I saw several people using the opportunity to dress in costume, adding to the scene’s color and celebration of expressionism. I saw bystanders join or engage with performers. I saw parents allowing their young children to draw on smaller cubes and take photos in art cars. In fact, I saw kids everywhere, in a place I’m not accustomed to seeing kids. It used to be that you only saw this sort of community grouping during First Friday in the Arts District and parades on Fourth Street. But it’s a more common occurrence in the revitalized Downtown—a longtime goal of this city.

The burn itself was the culmination of a four-week effort to build a 24-foot-tall structure, allow the general public to art it up (with music playing and other activities happening concurrently), illuminate it for a short while and then set it aflame in front of a huge gathering, to both bring a little Burning Man to the “default world” and inspire the community to physically express and manifest its aspirations and feelings—the latter idea a core motivation for artist Scott Cohen to create the Life Cube Project in 2011 for Burning Man, which he introduced to Las Vegas in 2014.

I didn’t pick up a paintbrush and add my personal aesthetic to the Life Cube last month, nor did I fill out and submit a “wish stick” on Saturday night like many other participants, who sought to have their proclamations burned along with the structure and, cosmically speaking, released into the universe. That’s not my spiritual jam. But it didn’t have to be for me (or anyone else) to participate. Plus, having been to Burning Man, I know the symbolism and reflection a large fire can inspire. And during the choreographed fire-dancer routines, the torching of the Cube, the beautiful cascading of sparks down its walls as it burned within, its eventual and loudly cheered-upon fall and its smoldering as the dance party from the Kalliope DJ stage began in earnest, it was almost as if I was back on the Black Rock Desert playa, surrounded by a celebratory and truly global throng.

The Life Cube burn wasn’t for everyone, and I don’t discount dissenters who roll their eyes at it for any number of reasons. I expect that in a diverse, opinionated population—the key word being “diverse.” As an urban center, Downtown is by its very nature designed to reflect a wide variety of tastes and beckon everyone, including so-called hipsters, bros and “dirty hippies”—the demographic slur I saw the most online following the burn. What bothered me wasn’t so much the comments dismissing the event, but the ones about whom it attracted—you know, those who dress and celebrate culture differently. If you’re going to live in, visit or support Downtown, you have to accept that it’s for everyone—not just you and those with whom you identify.

Downtown is the ideal location for unconventional, artistic and community-minded projects. And the Life Cube is one bit of proof that it’s evolving, thriving—and distinguishing itself from the rest of Las Vegas.