Wow! I met him back in 1971, he stayed at my college dorm.
I worked for him on the wrapped walkways project in Kansas City Mo. He used miles of gold yellow nylon fabric.
He actually had adjacent areas of bare ground covered with turf with new turf. They assigned me to a golf cart to ride around the park to care for the sprinklers; the new turf had to be watered.
I let the sprinklers spray onto the fabric to make sure the turf at the edge got sufficient water. I figured that the nylon, you know, being nylon would simply dry up and suffer no ill effects.
The sight of a puddle of water in the middle of his newly upholstered sidewalk made Christo livid. Mind you this guy was used to working with the public and relying on kids for labor. He had a wonderful demeanor— very conscientious, earnest and modest; he rarely lost his temper.
But he did over that patch of sidewalk. He walked up to me yelling in his broken English, then turned to French, and finally to his native Bulgarian before Jeanne- Claude could get over to his side and calm him down. I didn’t understand a word he said and I’m grateful for that. It all worked out though, I just moved the sprinklers.
I rarely think back on it now, but when I do it brings a smile. People focus on the social aspects—the Herculean task of getting communities to give permission and working through the local bureaus for permits, for example— when discussing his impact as an artist. But I can say he was just as passionate about the aesthetic side of his creations; he was exacting in every detail. They were beautiful.
I think he was one of the greatest artists of our time, and a good soul to boot. That’s a rare combination.