Posted on 02/21/2005 4:01:06 PM PST by Republicanprofessor
We caught our first glimpse of the Gates from our taxi up Central Park West. Already I was drawn in and fascinated. At each opening into Central Park, Christo has extended his initial gates, already welcoming you in. On roads into the park, there are sometimes city police or other vehicles. But on the quieter paths, only a trail of orange draws you in.
The orange, or saffron color, is wonderful: like the warm light of the beginning or end of the day, it glows in light or in dusk. It shimmers through the woods in the distance, winding around Olmstead’s paths, highlighting the intricacy and power of the park. It contrasts with the blue sky, the white sun and the snow.
The gates ebb and flow throughout the park. They are not continuous, but pop up in sometimes-unexpected places; atop a knoll there are a few, barely discernible gates through the wood, urging you to come and explore. They are lined beside the icy ponds, golden reflections echoing their forms. They wind away ahead of you, pause, and then continue; they stop behind you, just before a bridge, and underneath a new line on the road above you. There are three or four lined up here or there, accenting the skyscrapers rising behind them.
There are several experiences of these gates. First, from a distance (on foot, in car or bus) they call you to the park. Then they loom above you, the bright orange flapping at seven feet, just above your head, and then another lies ahead of you, and another, leading you onward. Visitors see the poetry of the gates; almost every one has a camera; rarely have so many pictures been taken on one day in the park.
These days may be cold and frosty days, but thousands flow through the gates. Other paths in NJ and NY are empty. But Central Park is full of murmuring, amazed visitors, faces aglow like the gates themselves.
By the model boat pond, another miracle is at work. More visitors and telescopes are here, as tourists and residents alike search for the red tail hawks, Pale Male and his mate, at their nest across on 5th Avenue and 74th Street. Occasionally one can see them soar as they search for food: now for love offerings, later for the goslings that will come.
The form of these gates is perfect. From internet pictures or the drawings by Christo, the forms look stiff and uninviting. But Christo’s own drawings were more technical and hardly did justice to the brilliant saffron of his gates. This fabric is perfectly pleated, to better billow in the wind above one’s heads. The gates are the ideal size: at seven feet, they are monumental but do not dwarf the strollers. One feels grand walking through, like a king and his entourage. You look up: there is a huge brilliant sheet of color, and then more and more stretched ahead for your own enjoyment.
There are Eastern influences: the gates remind me of Japanese war banners and the Great Wall of China. But the wall has been broken, dissolved, made transparent and reconstructed so that we can pass through its invisible essence. It is like Christo’s Running Fence but more accessible, so that you can walk in and around and under that wonderful warm fabric. The color is as carefully chosen as the pink for the Biscayne Bay islands. The orange is like a Hunter’s orange: visible from a distance, but turned to a ceremonial and spiritual purpose.
Internet friends kindly answered my request about the best points from which to view the gates. I would like to broaden those suggestions and to say that almost everywhere is a great spot to view the pieces: from up close, from a distance, and, most particularly, as you walk through them.
For, like most Minimal and Earth Art, this piece is best experienced in person. And, unlike most Minimal Art (where the artist writes for pages about a leaning piece of steel), Christo has written remarkably little about this. He allows us to think and feel ourselves. He professes no great ideals; but the experience is all, and like Turrell’s Roden Crater, such experiences can give us such a deep sense of peace and joy that, if we are open to it, they can change our lives. For attitude is all.
What is the piece about? Above all, it is about an enjoyment of life: to feel and see and be alive. This is shown by all the thousands of visitors, almost every one with a camera, amazed at the view, snapping away. With the new cameras today, it must be nigh impossible to take a bad picture of the gates.
One needs most of all to experience the piece: to see the different vantage points, the way the fabric looms over you, billows as you walk beneath, as another rises to take its place. You see stark branches in silhouette and shadows upon the sheets, the sun shining through and down upon them, the snow falling around a softer glow. Each day, each light, each wind, each effect of snow or rain will be different. You could walk every day and see something different. The work is about our experience of our own lives: each day and moment is different and needs to be enjoyed to its utmost. If you open yourself to the simple joy of these gates, they in turn will open you up to new dimensions of living.
Yes, it sounds too good to be true. And perhaps this is one person’s view. All I know is that I had thought I’d go and see why these Gates did not seem to work (in internet views) as well as the Fence or Islands. I proved myself entirely wrong; and from my first taxi view, we had the most wonderful (although chilly) day exploring these glowing trails.
Most of all, the experience is limited in time, like most of the best experiences of our lives. The gates will live in memory far longer than in Central Park. It is indeed a transcendent work of art, in all the best ways, and we are indeed lucky that after twenty-five years of planning, it finally came into existence. I believe in the future that those lucky enough to have seen the gates will share this very special connection (in a way similar to but opposite from 9/11). In fact, it is probably paramount that this work came into existence after 9/11; perhaps it is one (of many) healing experiences New Yorkers have needed since then.
Close. Golden Horde. Mongol camp. Barbarians at the Gates of Rome (New York, USA). Painfully obvious.
Painfully obvious that I have no idea what it's about but my interpretation is at least provocative.
Is it supposed to look garish?
It seems to have stirred a passion in you that has gone beyond the exhibit. Something every artist strives to do. Good for him and for you.
LOL! It's been a while for you hasn't it? :o)
I am hoping to see them before they go....I happen to love Christo.
This "art" does nothing but obscure what is truly beautiful - the park. Olmstead is the artist here, not Christo.
I love the fact that he and Jean Claude were born on the same day, have the same passion for his art and have stayed in love for all these years. La ve a belle!
Jean Claude is a man's name. Christo's wife is Jeanne-Claude :-)
Et la vie est belle, aussi. 8~)
Great night shots! Thanks. I didn't see them at that time.
Mmmmm. Now that's art!
Nevermind.
Thanks. I needed that today. 8~)
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