Friday, February 11, 2005

In New York: The Gates pre-show, part 2

Last moments before the tightly held cocoons at the top of the gates are opened. I walk to Whole Foods – why? Because it forces me to cross Central Park once more (and I am feeding a familial addiction to Angel Fluffs – see photo below). The wind will not let up. I could imagine it doing beautiful things with the banners – but those wont be released until tomorrow.

I love listening to the comments of people who are in the park… Is there a deeper meaning to this? -- one asks. No, I think we should just regard this as a statement about orange – is the response. Take a photo of me lying down next to the post! And: did it really cost $21 million? Is it worth it? My own response: we live in a world were beautiful things are provided for people who can afford them all the time. Why object to something that is so absolutely free, and so enchanting?

You should see the smiles on people’s faces! This is so new to me, being here in the middle of the city and observing how people slow down to take it all in. Pedestrians walk through, with buggies, with groceries (me!), and they comment and say accurate and inaccurate facts about it, but you can tell that they are enchanted. And this is still before the letting go of the saffron banners.

Just a few more photos, so you can see how different the light is in Central Park in the late afternoon, just before dusk.
The pre-dusk blue tone makes its way down to the trees and path... Posted by Hello
The sun hits the orange post head on, as it retreats for the day Posted by Hello
A classic New York scene, only with an orange twist. Posted by Hello
an evening's supply Posted by Hello

In New York: The Gates pre-show

I take my time this morning. It’s almost as if I don’t want to be overwhelmed just yet.

[Besides, the wind is vicious. Last night, the flight into La Guardia battled the invisible bursts of air and I think many of us wondered if the plane would give up and land at any random place, instead of the runway. In the end it was routed the “old” way, the way you used to fly in before September 11th, just to the right of Manhattan. The man next to me, sitting huddled into his jacket with a cap pulled low over his head, became excited by the flight, the winds, the entire experience. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a candy bar and insisted that I share. So sweet – both the candy bar and him.]

But by 9, I can’t take my own diddling and I head out, up on 64th where I am staying, into Central Park at the Zoo entrance.

And immediately I see the difference between this and Christo’s earlier California art project, “Running Fence.” New York’s “The Gates” (or, in its full name: “The Gates Central Park, New York City 1979 – 2005,” referring to the time it took, logistically, politically, otherwise, to put this 16-day wonder on the City turf) are not a contiguous serpentine. They follow a curve, a path, a road and then they stop, only to be picked up again elsewhere.

The result is nothing short of magnificent. True, the colors were matched to this day: the blue of the sky reflects against the glass buildings, the grayish brown of the land retreats to the back and the contrast of the vivid orange against the blue becomes piercingly stunning.

I talk to a group of Gates workers. There are 600 scattered throughout. All are paid $6.25 an hour and are given one free hot meal each day at the park. Wisconsin? I know about Madison! – one says. It’s a progressive state, isn’t it? But so far from everything! Yes to all of that, I answer. Kristen, a worker from Seattle tells me to find her tomorrow. She’ll save me a scrap of fabric (they’ll be handing out swatches of it on a first come basis). Her friend, a retired New Yorker, lifts up the base covers and shows me how each gate was assembled.

I go to the Metropolitan Museum because there, from the Terrace, I know I can get an aerial view. But the terrace is closed to visitors today. A reception is being held there for Christo (people say he is French, but he only lived there later in life, after a childhood in Bulgaria). I go to the elevators anyway. Maybe no one will notice if I go there now, before any of the guests show up. They notice and turn me away. But I think I can catch the elevator on the second floor, without guard interference. I do! I alight at the Trustee’s Dining Room. A receptionist greets me. I tell her I am here just to take a few photos. I hope I sound official. My black coat hides my unofficial looking corduroys. She says – yes of course, go right ahead. I comment on the brilliant weather, the view, the beauty of it all. She smiles.

Outside again it is still cold. I buy a Gates t-shirt in support of Central Park Conservancy. And on Madison Avenue, I snatch a sample pair of prototype boots (next year’s style, sold for one fourth the price). I am lucky because French distributors always use my size as the prototype. The boots are almost orange. My day is complete.

A denseness of blues and oranges Posted by Hello

Just three here, on a rocky path Posted by Hello

one step at a time, around the frozen lake Posted by Hello

Curving gently with the bridge Posted by Hello

Suddenly, the gates are everywhere, almost running into each other. Posted by Hello

Seeing things differently, with the help of the rectangular orange gates. Posted by Hello

At the Petrie Court Café of the Metropolitan Museum, the multiple frames of windows and gates give the statue special prominenece Posted by Hello

From the Trustees' Lounge at the Metropolitan Museum: a parade of gates among the trees in February light. Posted by Hello

something to take home Posted by Hello

In New York: saffron-colored fabric

7500 gates on 23 miles of footpaths in Central Park. An art project 26 years in the making – up for sixteen days then down again. Like life – born, then left only in the memory.

Christo, the artist writes that it is a golden ceiling creating warm shadows. Newsweek declares it to be a stunning extravaganza whose purity lies partly in being so impractical and ephemeral. Tomorrow, all the cocoons are opened. 7500 impractical gates.

This morning, I'm off to explore the emergent path of saffron. It is up and waiting. The sun is brilliant. The stage is set.

Would you accept $10,000 to shave your head and continue your normal activities sans hat or wig without explaining the reason for your haircut?

[In answer to a blogger’s question, as posed here]

Of course! I’d do it for $5,0000. I’d do it for free if a handful of good friends did it with me. I’d eat spiders and get a tattoo. These are only ornamentations in life, they speak to none of the essentials.

Besides, I keep a blog, don’t I? If you think about it, that’s more ridiculous than any of the above.