A Treatise on The Gates

I went to NY and NJ last week to visit family and to see Christo's latest art project, "The Gates." After flying all Tuesday night, I arrived in Newark at 6am Wed., where my mom met me and we went straight into the city to meet Audra for breakfast at the Westway Diner (supposedly the inspiration for the diner in Seinfeld). Then we walked to Central Park and the Frick Museum, where my friends Matt and Miyan met us at different points. After lunch at Patsy's Pizzeria (where they make a mighty fine pepperoni pizza!) we walked through the park a little more until it started to rain, thus signaling a return to New Jersey.

I must say, The Gates were beautiful. At first sight they're almost shocking, and in different sections, with varying light and wind, they're downright breathtaking. I especially liked areas where there were thick groves of trees, but you could see little bits of orange through the branches--almost like a game of hide and seek. I was only supposed to spend 1/2 a day in NY, but I felt like I needed to see more and begged my folks to take me back in before my flight home so I could see the northern section of the park.

The Gates has gotten a lot of press--perhaps more so than any other Christo project. There seem to be two questions that keep getting asked repeatedly about the piece, which I must admit, irk me to no end. The first question I keep hearing is, "Was it really worth spending $20 million on?" To people who declare that $20 million could have been put to better use, I have this to say: Oh, how short our collective memory is! I believe it was less than 2 months ago that $40 million was spent for parties on one day for a bunch of fat cats who brag about trampling over the common people, and the city had to foot the bill for the security ($17 million) and the federal government has to reimburse the city for the parade stands ($3 million). (Get your calculators out, folks, that's $60 million.)

What is flowing through Central Park for 16 days is a monumental--yet egalitarian--transcendentally beautiful gift to Everyman. The City of New York and the People of New York did not pay a dime for this project, and the rewards are theirs to reap. Even the proceeds from the sale of memorabilia is being donated to an organization called Nuture New York's Nature. (I think my parents contributed about $125 to New York's economy the 2 days I was there.) If one million people go to see The Gates, that's basically a $20 gift of art from Christo and Jeanne-Claude to each person.

Which brings me to the 2nd question(s) that bugs me: Is it art?/How can it be art if it has no meaning? First of all, at what point did we turn a corner in which art must have a meaning? Or is "meaning" supposed to be proportional to size? (i.e., the larger a piece is, the more mandatory it must be to represent something tangible) When I look at still lifes--paintings of vases and flowers and such--I don't ask myself, "What does it mean?" Maybe I should, but I don't. I evaluate the painting on color, light, composition, and execution. Why is it imperative that 7,500 swatches of saffron fabric must "mean something" but 500 dabs of pale yellow cadmium on a Monet painting get off scot-free?

When I evaluate "The Gates" as I would a still life, here is what I come up with:
Color: a beautiful, joyous orange hue that adds much-needed vitality to the grey, dull colorings of NYC in winter
Light: ever-changing with the sunlight, at times they are incandescent--they spendidly reflect both shadows and warmth
Composition: meticulously spaced throughout the park, in some areas (especially near Belvedere Castle) the effect is not as strong as it could be, but in others it's stunning
Execution: A+, professional, sturdy, respectful of its environment, easily maintained, top-grade materials

I bristle when I hear people ask if it's art, because I can't see it any other way. How can something so beautiful not be art? If Christo and Jeanne-Claude say it's art, why question them? But then I have to remind myself that people asked that same question of Van Gogh, Chagall, Picasso, Duchamp, Boccioni, Rothko, Warhol, Pollock, etc., so they are in good company.

To me, The Gates represent a dream of epic proportions. It took Christo & Jeanne-Claude 26 years to finally realize their dream--an amazing dedication of time and money--so that people might have something beautiful to look at, together, for a little while in one of the drabbest months of the year, in a city full of disconnected people. I can too-readily imagine how dull Central Park will look for the rest of the winter once they come down on Tuesday.

Thanks to my parents for everything (especially the plane ticket, the pizzas, the Dunkin' Donuts, and the subs). Thanks to my family and friends for making time to see me during my short visit. And thanks to Christo and Jeanne-Claude for creating a little bit of beauty. (I'll post my pictures next week!)