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New York Architecture
Images- Central Park Christo's
Gates
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artists
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Christo and Jean-Claude
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location
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Central
Park |
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date
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February
2005 |
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type
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Sculpture |
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Torii Gates
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Collage 2004 in two parts:
30,5 x 77,5cm and 66,7 x 77,5cm
(12 x 30 1/2" and 26 1/4 x 30 1/2")
Pencil, fabric, charcoal, wax crayon, pastel, enamel paint fabric
sample and map.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz.
©2005 Christo Ref.# 114
Enlarged
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Collage, 2004
In two parts: 30.5 x 77.5 cm and 66.7 x 77.5 cm
(12 x 30 1/2” and 26.1/4 x 30 1/2”)
Pencil, fabric, charcoal, wax crayon, pastel, map, enamel paint
and fabric sample.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004 Christo Ref.# 104
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Collage 2004
In 2 parts: 77,5 x 30,5 cm. and 77,5 x 66,7cm.
(30 1/2 x 12” and 30 1/2 x 26 1/4 inch.)
Pencil, fabric, wax crayon, charcoal, enamel paint, pastel, aerial
photo and fabric sample.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz.
©2004 Christo Ref.# 107
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Collage 2004
In 2 parts: 30,5 x 77,5 cm. and 66,7 x 77,5 cm.
(12 x 30.1/2” and 26.1/4 x 30 1/2 inch.)
Pencil, fabric, charcoal, wax crayon, pastel, map, enamel paint,
fabric sample and aerial photograph.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004 Christo Ref.# 113
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Collage, 2004
21,5 x 28 cm. (8 1/2 x 11”)
Pencil, enamel paint, photograph by Wolfgang Volz,
wax crayon, fabric sample and tape.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004 Christo
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Drawing, 2004
35,5 x 28 cm. (14" x 11”)
Pencil, charcoal, paste and wax crayon.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004 Christo
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Collage, 2005
43,2 cm x 55,9 cm (17” x 22”)
Pencil, enamel paint, photograph by Wolfgang Volz, wax crayon,
map, and fabric sample.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2005 Christo
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Collage, 2004
55,9 x 43,2 cm. (22 x 17”)
Pencil, enamel paint, photograph by Wolfgang Volz, wax crayon,
hand-drawn map, tape and fabric sample.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004 Christo
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Drawing 2004. 77,5 x 70,5 cm (30.1/2 x 27.3/4”)
Pencil, charcoal, pastel, wax crayon, technical data and tape.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004 Christo Ref.# 002
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Drawing 2004 38,7 x 35,2 cm. (15 1/4 x 13 7/8")
Pencil, charcoal, pastel, wax crayon,
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004 Christo
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Drawing 2004. 55,9 x 71,1 cm. (22 x 28”)
Pencil, charcoal, pastel, wax crayon, hand-drawn technical data
and tape.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004 Christo Ref.# 12
Enlarged View
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Drawing 2002. In 2 parts: 165 x 38 cm. and 165 x 106,6 cm.
(65 x 15" and 65 x 42")
Pencil, charcoal, pastel, wax crayon, enamel paint and map.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2002Christo Ref.# 22
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Drawing in two parts:
96 x 42" (244 x 106.6 cm)
and 96 x 15" (244 x 38 cm).
Pencil, charcoal, pastel, wax crayon, enamel paint, fabric sample,
hand-drawn map, technical data, and tape.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2005 Christo Ref.# 054
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Drawing 2004. In two parts: 244 x 38 cm.
and 244 x 106,6 cm. (96 x 15” and 96 x 42”).
Pencil, charcoal, pastel, wax crayon, enamel paint, fabric sample,
hand-drawn map, technical data and tape.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004Christo Ref.# 049
Enlarged View
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Christo
The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City
Drawing 2004 In two parts: 38 x 244 cm and 106.6 x 244 cm
(15x96” and 42x96”) Pencil, charcoal, pastel, wax crayon,
fabric sample, aerial photograph, tape and hand-drawn technical
data.
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
©2004 Christo Ref.# 047
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The Gates, Project for Central Park,
New York City
Christo and Jeanne-Claude
Click fabric sample to enlarge.
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On
January 22, 2003 Michael R. Bloomberg, Mayor of New York City,
announced that the city has given permission to New York artists
Christo and Jeanne-Claude to realize their temporary work of art:The
Gates, Central Park, New York, 1979-2005.
The 7500 Gates, 16 feet (4.87 meters) high with a width varying from
5' 6" to 18 feet (1,67 m to 5,48 meters) will follow the edges
of the walkways and will be perpendicular to the selected 23 miles
of footpaths in Central Park. Free hanging saffron colored fabric
panels suspended from the horizontal top part of the gates will come
down to approximately 7 feet ( 2,13 meters) above the ground. The
gates will be spaced at 12 foot (3,65 meter) intervals, except where
low branches extend above the walkways allowing the synthetic woven
panels to wave horizontally towards the next gate and be seen from
far away through the leafless branches of the trees. The temporary
work of art The Gates is scheduled for February 2005, to
remain for 16 days, then the 7,500 Gates shall be removed and the
materials will be recycled.
As Christo and Jeanne-Claude have always done for their previous
projects, The Gates will be entirely financed by the artists
through C.V.J. Corp, (Jeanne-Claude Javacheff, President) with the
sale of studies, preparatory drawings and collages, scale models,
earlier works of the fifties and sixties, and original lithographs
on other subjects.
The artists do not accept sponsorship
or donations.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have
donated the merchandising rights to the charitable foundation "NNYN"
(Nurture New York's Nature and Arts) who are sharing these rights
with The Central Park Conservancy.
Neither New York City nor the Park administration shall bear any of
the expenses for The Gates.
The Gates
will provide employment for hundreds of New York City residents:
- Manufacturing and
assembling of the gates structures,
- Installation workers,
- Maintenance teams
around the clock, in uniform and with radios,
- Removal workers.
The 5 inch (12,7 cm) square vertical
and horizontal poles will be extruded in 65 miles (104,6 km) of
recyclable saffron colored vinyl. The vertical poles will be secured
by 15,000 narrow, steel base footings, 600 pounds (275 Kilograms)
each, positioned on the paved surfaces. There will be no holes in
the ground at all.
The off-site fabrication of the gates structures and assembly of the
7500 fabric panels made of 1,089,882 square feet (101,250 square
meters) of fabric will be done in local workshops, and factories.
The on-site installation of the
bases, by small teams, spread in the park, will neither disturb the
maintenance and management of Central Park nor the every day use of
the park by the people of New York.
In teams of eight, 600 workers
wearing "The Gates" uniforms, will be responsible for
installing 100 gates per team. All workers will be financially
compensated and receive one hot meal per day. Professional security
will work in the park after dark. The unfurling of the fabric panels
will bloom in one day.
A written contract has been drafted between the City of New York and
the Department of Parks and Recreation and the artists.
The contract requires the artists to
provide, among other terms and conditions:
- Personal and property
liability insurance holding harmless the City, the Department of
Parks and Recreation and the Central Park Conservancy.
- Restoration Bond
providing funds for complete removal.
- Full cooperation with
the Department of Parks and Recreation, the Central Park
Conservancy, the New York Police Department, the New York City
Arts Commission, the Landmarks Commission and the Community
Boards.
- Clearance for the
usual activities in the park and access of Rangers, maintenance,
clean-up, police and emergency vehicles.
- The artists shall pay
all costs of the Park’s supervision directly related to the
project.
- Neither vegetation nor
rock formations shall be disturbed.
- The Gates
will be clear of rocks, tree roots and low branches.
- Only vehicles of small
size will be used and will be confined to existing walkways
during installation and removal.
- The people of New York
will continue to use Central Park as usual.
- After the removal, the
site shall be inspected by the Department of Parks and
Recreation which will be holding the security until
satisfaction.
For those who will walk through The
Gates, following the walkways, and staying away from the grass, The
Gates will be a golden ceiling creating warm shadows. When seen
from the buildings surrounding Central Park, The Gates will
seem like a golden river appearing and disappearing through the bare
branches of the trees and will highlight the shape of the footpaths.
The 16 day duration work of art, free
to all, will be a long-to-be-remembered joyous experience for every
New Yorker, as a democratic expression that Olmsted invoked when he
conceived a “central” park. The luminous moving fabric will
underline the organic design of the park, while the rectangular
poles will be a reminder fo the geometric grid pattern of the city
blocks around the park. The Gates will harmonize with the
beauty of Central Park.
Vince Davenport is the chief engineer
and director of construction. Jonita Davenport is the project
director.
All materials are being shipped to
the rented 25,000 square foot (2,250 square meter) assembly plant in
Queens, NY. Six manufacturing plants are preparing the materials,
plus a sewing plant.
Some of the materials ordered
for 7,500 GATES (as of September 7, 2003):
(Numbers might change slightly.)
All materials will be recycled.
• 5,290 US Tons of steel
(4,799 Metric Tons) (10,580,000 pounds) (equal to 2/3 the steel in
the Eiffel Tower) for 15,000 specially designed steel footing
weights, varying between 615 and 837 pounds each, according to the
width of the gate, (279 - 379 Kg.). Gates vary in width because
there are 25 different widths of walkways in Central Park. The
weights are resting on the hard surface of the walkways. There will
be no holes in Central Park.
• 315,491 linear feet
(60 miles) (96.5 Km.) of Vinyl tube, 5 inch x 5 inch square,
(12,7 x 12,7 cm.) extruded in saffron color, recyclable, specially
designed, (for each gate: 2 vertical 16 feet long (4,87 meter), and
one horizontal (varying between 6 and 18 feet, because the width of
the walkways varies)
• 15,000
specially designed, recyclable, cast aluminum upper corner
reinforcements which hold together the 2 vertical poles to the
horizontal pole.
• 15,000 base anchor sleeves.
Which will be bolted to the steel footing weights.
• 15,000 (1/2
inch x 8 inch x 8 inch) (1.27 x 22,8 x 22,8 cm.) steel leveling
plates. The leveling plate is between the base anchor sleeve and
the steel base, it has a pivoting bolt which will ensure the perfect
verticality of the poles, even when the walkways are inclined.
• 165,000 bolts and self locking
nuts. (7,500 x 22)
• 15,000 (8
x 8 x 8 inch) (22,8 x 22,8 x 22,8 cm.) Vinyl leveling plate covers,
to hide the bolts.
• 116,389
miles (187,311 Km.) of nylon thread to be extruded in
saffron color and specially woven into 1,067,330 square feet
(99,155 square meters) of recyclable, rip-stop fabric, and then
shipped to the sewing factory to be cut and sewn into 7,500 fabric
panels of various widths. 46 miles (74 Km.) of hems.
On January 3, 2005, weather
permitting, our professional workers will enter Central Park.
Using forklifts and pallet jacks, they will place the 15,000 steel
weights bases at their specific positions on the edges of the
walkways, usually at 12 foot intervals, unless there are low
branches.
On Monday, February 7, 2005, weather
permitting, approximately 700 non-skilled workers (in teams of
7) will elevate The Gates assemblies -- 2 vertical and one
horizontal pole, the upper and lower aluminum corners and base
assembly and the fabric panel in a cocoon, attached to the upper
horizontal pole. The fabric panels will not initially be seen
because they will be restrained in the cocoons which will remain
closed until Saturday, February 12, when all the
cocoons will be opened, in one day (maybe in one morning), weather
permitting, as with all our projects.
The Gates
will remain in Central park for 16 days, then the removal will
start.
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With thanks to www.christojeanneclaude.net
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NY1
February 16, 2005
The Gates In Central Park Are Vandalized

After a grand unveiling over the weekend, “The Gates” in Central
Park have apparently been vandalized.
Some graffiti was reportedly found on one of the gates, and pieces of
the fabric were cut as well.
No arrests have been made.
But the artists, Christo and Jeanne-Claude, did not seem bothered when
they heard of the vandalism.
“We don’t react,” said Jeanne-Claude. “We are not reactors; we
are creators.”
Over 7,500 gates draped with flowing saffron-colored fabric have been
erected over 23 miles of pathways in Central Park to create the largest
public artwork in the city’s history. “The Gates” will be up
through February 27.
Copyright © 2005 NY1 News
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February 17, 2005
Young Critics See 'The Gates' and Offer Their Reviews: Mixed
By JULIE SALAMON

Bella, 9, and Samuel Glanville, 11, visitors from London. Samuel uses
terms like Fauvism and Pointillism.
esterday morning, unusually balmy for
February, the gentle slopes north of the Delacorte Theater in Central
Park resembled a giant schoolyard. Swarms of students were led to
"The Gates" by their teachers, to observe, to draw, to
meditate - and in many cases to pontificate - on the meaning of art and
nature.
For Kate Rosenberg, 9, a third-grade student at Rodeph Sholom, a private
school on the Upper West Side, the saffron-colored gates dreamed up by
the artist Christo and his wife, Jeanne-Claude, have altered her vision
of Central Park. "Before I didn't really look at the park,"
she said. "I didn't see how beautiful it is.
"These gates, and there are billions of them, make me feel I will
not look at the park the same way again."
There are actually 7,532 gates spread along 23 miles of the park's
pathways - not quite billions, but more than enough to loom large in a
child's imagination. And in the opinion of some children, far too many.
Perhaps especially in New York, it is never too soon to become a critic.
Many youngsters wondered if this was art at all, and if it was, did it
have to cost $21 million?
"They just wasted their money on nothing," declared Ikim
Powell, 10, who attends P.S. 368 in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn.
"They should at least have paintings behind them."
His classmate, Tyre Brooks, felt "The Gates" was an
unnecessary artificial imposition on the park's natural beauty.
"Now it looks like a stage, like on wrestling," he said.
"I just want to ride my bike and play. I'd like to come back to the
park when the flags aren't here. They look cheap."
But another student from P.S. 368, Tyquam Nimmons, on his first visit to
Central Park, disagreed. "It is artistic," he said.
"There are a lot of them all around, and they're the same color and
they give me a good feeling." He was about to elaborate but instead
ran off to catch a football being tossed around by a group from his
school.
Martha Epstein, a Rodeph Sholom third-grader, sitting with her
classmates on a hill made of boulders, had just finished a sketch of one
of the gates. "This is about my millionth time seeing 'The Gates,'
" she sighed. She said she was not much impressed on her first
visit last weekend with her family, right after the 116,389 miles of
saffron fabric were unfurled. "It was really crowded and I didn't
like the orange," she said. "I wished it was green, a park
color."
Subsequent visits have somewhat altered her view. "I don't like the
look of them but I like the way everybody is at the park and
happy," she said.
Lucinda Gresswell brought her two children to New York from London for
their midterm break, in part because the Christo gates would be up. In
the 1970's, Ms. Gresswell's father had bought a Christo drawing of
either a pyramid or a sphinx, she could not remember which. So two weeks
ago she booked a flight.
Her 11-year-old son, Samuel Glanville, had no doubt that the gates were
art. "Art is Fauvism, Pointillism, abstract," he said, looking
at rows of pleated nylon fabric floating slightly at the whiff of a
breeze. "This is Christo - is that his name, I forget? - this is
his art, his own interpretation."
Samuel liked knowing that "The Gates" would be on view for
only two weeks. "Like all art, if it's always there it doesn't feel
so special," he said, with the savvy of a shrewd museum director.
"It's like a special Matisse show at a museum. You feel lucky if
you get to see it."
For his 9-year-old sister, Bella, on her first visit to New York,
confronting "The Gates" was another in a series of crucial
discoveries: the brilliant lights of Times Square, and Century 21, the
bargain store near ground zero, where Bella acquired the very cool shirt
she was wearing.
She was not as certain as her brother of the artistic merit of the
gates. "Well, yeah," she said, when asked if they were art.
Then, she amended. "Not so much," she said. "They're kind
of like flags. I prefer messy art, like blobs."
But she was happy that Christo's project helped lure her family to
Central Park, where she and Samuel worked up a healthy glow climbing on
the rocks. "It wouldn't be too ordinary even without the
flags," she said. "Most parks have grass and trees, not rocks.
In England, unless it's a heath, you wouldn't have big rocks and
stones."
Sean Springer, a student from the Rhode Island School of Design on leave
to work as a volunteer for "The Gates," said he had learned
from the school groups wandering through. "There was an English
class writing about their feelings, and I was wondering about the
connections between literature and this work," he said. "My
opinion is the art makes a poetic statement, and they said art is a form
of poetry."
Mr. Springer helped install "The Gates," will help take it
down, and stands at the ready to untangle fabric with a pole capped by a
tennis ball. He also answers questions and hands out swatches of the
nylon saffron fabric to passers-by. "That's one thing that's the
same for kids and adults," he said. "If they know about the
swatches, they want them."

A student records impressions of "The Gates."
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
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February 17, 2005
In City of Ads, 'The Gates' Stand Apart
By DAVID W. DUNLAP
NOT a word.
That may be one of the greatest gifts of "The Gates" to New
York City: a sponsor-free public installation in Central Park.
At a time when the civic realm is blanketed with corporate promotion,
from lampposts to landmarks, the artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude have
shown that it is possible to hang 1,067,330 square feet of nylon in the
heart of Manhattan - almost 50 acres of potential display space -
without a slogan, trademark or logo.
"I would have had a much more difficult time going to community
boards, the Municipal Art Society and other civic groups making a case
for it if there had been corporate logos on it," said Adrian Benepe,
the parks commissioner.
The artists are paying the estimated $21 million cost of the 16-day
installation. They refuse sponsors, they say, because they want to work
"in total freedom."
Of course, in one sense, their work promotes themselves. Whether on the
gray smocks worn by monitors along the walkways or in the piles of
merchandise at the gift shops, there is no mistaking who gets top
billing: Christo and Jeanne-Claude.
But the couple are not trying to sell real estate or financial services,
airline or museum tickets. To the extent that they may be trying to move
"Gates" merchandise - or at least to satisfy the demand for it
- they are not receiving income from the sales, which largely benefit
city parks, said Megan Sheekey, a spokeswoman for the project.
And the 16-foot-high orange gates are free of advertising.
"There is not one image stamped on it," marveled Vanessa Gruen,
director of special projects at the Municipal Art Society. "We're
so used to seeing that kind of fabric used to drape buildings and for
huge signs." For instance, the society has criticized as
"obnoxious" a billboard modeled on a $10 bill that temporarily
covers the front of the landmark New-York Historical Society on Central
Park West, promoting the Alexander Hamilton exhibition.
Another landmark near the park, the former United States Rubber Company
Building at Broadway and 58th Street, now partly cocooned in
scaffolding, has been turned into a temporary advertising kiosk for
Independence Air.
Around the park itself are dozens of three-by-eight-foot lamppost
banners maintained by NYC & Company, the city's tourism marketing
organization. Some currently feature paintings of dancers by Susan
Rothenberg. These come emblazoned with the logo of the financial service
firm UBS, in connection with a show at the Museum of Modern Art.
Other banners along Central Park South are more like pure advertising.
They show the logo of the real estate company CB Richard Ellis under a
picture of Times Square with the legend "Real Estate Capital of the
World."
Cristyne L. Nicholas, the president and chief executive of NYC &
Company, said banners around the city generate about $600,000 a year for
the nonprofit organization, which in turn helps promote cultural
institutions and events.
"As far as corporate logos," she said, "that pays for the
program, so that's necessary. All public art projects can't be funded by
the generosity of Christo and Jeanne-Claude."
Through the CVJ Corporation, of which Jeanne-Claude is president, the
couple finance their projects by selling drawings, models, studies,
lithographs and other artwork.
TO date, more than 1 million visitors have viewed "The Gates,"
Ms. Sheekey said. You would think some corporation would salivate at
this prospect, maybe one whose graphic identity is dominated by the
color orange - like Home Depot or the ING Group - or one whose products
might be conjured in viewers' minds by billowing curtains or rivers of
orange, like the Coca-Cola Company (Minute Maid and Fanta) or Procter
& Gamble (Downy fabric softener).
"In other projects, we have received offers of sponsorship and have
always said a flat no," Jeanne-Claude said in a telephone interview
on Tuesday. "But for 'The Gates,' we have not received any offers
of sponsorship because we think - Christo and I - that by now, they know
we don't say yes, ever. So nobody even bothered."
Asked about the proliferation of commercial imagery elsewhere in the
city, Jeanne-Claude conferred briefly with her husband before she
returned to the phone. "Christo answered, and I repeat word for
word, 'I never think of advertising.' "
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
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February 17, 2005
METRO MATTERS
How Banners Navigated the Hurdles
By JOYCE PURNICK
FOR nearly three years, Vince Davenport has lived and worked in New
York, planning and directing installation of "The Gates" in
Central Park. He chose the materials, devised engineering solutions,
negotiated with suppliers, selected contractors and dealt with park
neighbors and a municipal hierarchy as muddled as rush-hour traffic.
The project's engineer says he can't quite yet believe that he and his
team pulled it off, but they did. And now seems a good time to ask what
he thinks of New York. How tough did he find the city, once it finally
gave the project the go-ahead?
"It is a difficult place to work, but I don't think it's that
difficult if you do it right," Mr. Davenport said yesterday.
"Do your homework, and don't try to beat the system, but work with
it. There are so many bureaucracies. Everybody wants to be in charge of
their own domain, and I can understand that. But go through the
hierarchy, sit down and draw a plan and present it - as opposed to
trying to bulldoze your way through."
With occasional exceptions, he didn't even find New Yorkers rude, said
Mr. Davenport, a general contractor originally from Kansas City who
sounds uncannily like another Missouri native, Harry S. Truman, and
seems just as direct (if less crusty).
Told that some who worked on the project say that they considered it to
be his - becoming Christo and Jeanne-Claude's only when the saffron
material was unfurled on Saturday - he chose different language, but
acknowledged that the technical translation of the artistic design, the
engineering, "was strictly mine."
Though working in New York for the first time, he seems to have
anticipated most problems, except one. Mr. Davenport said that while he
fully expected New York to be expensive, he found that labor, trucking
and parking were so much more expensive than he anticipated that the
project's costs grew to more than $20 million from the $15 million he
originally projected.
What about that entrenched New York institution, bribes - what did they
cost? "Not a dime," he said. "The suggestion was made a
few times, 'Is there something we can do for you?' But never out and
out, and I don't believe in it."
Even for someone who's worked in Los Angeles and Berlin, the city's
complexity sounds as though it was bewildering - the multiple rules from
multiple agencies. "But I don't have a problem with it,"
continued Mr. Davenport, sitting in his trailer near the Boathouse
yesterday morning. "To me, Central Park is the eighth wonder of the
world - a gorgeous, beautiful park. I understand why you have to have so
many rules. It's the only way, when so many people are coming into the
park daily."
IT was the rule not to disturb the park that complicated approval of the
project, first proposed over a quarter-century ago and rejected. That
was mostly because Central Park was in bad shape, partly because the
park design called for making it worse by drilling 15,000 holes in the
park to anchor the gates.
When the artists decided to try again in 2002, Mr. Davenport told them:
" 'This is impossible, I can't do this job.' I said the geology of
the park will not allow you, even if you got permission, to drill simple
six-inch-by-three-foot holes. You will wind up with a two-foot-diameter
hole by the time you take out all the rocks you are going to hit."
Even without having a solution, he recommended telling the city that the
design would require no drilling. By that spring, he came up with an
innovative design using heavy bases with anchor plates that serve as
leveling devices to anchor the 7,500 vinyl gates. Doug Blonsky,
president of the Central Park Conservancy, said yesterday that the
revised design was "one of the most important factors that helped
us change our feelings."
Mr. Davenport, who had built tracks of houses and industrial buildings
but is not a trained engineer, started working with Christo and
Jeanne-Claude in 1989, when a contractor-friend from Missouri, working
on the couple's umbrella installation in the Los Angeles area, needed an
associate with a California license.
Mr. Davenport was licensed, and intrigued. He and his wife, Jonita, have
been with the two artists ever since.
The couple have been living on Manhattan's East Side since February
2002, but after "The Gates" closes in 10 days, they will
return to their home in Leavenworth, Wash. "I'd love to stay,"
he said. "But I can't afford it."
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|

You too could have a little Christo and Jeanne Claude
in your home.
http://www.not-rocket-science.com/media_gates.htm
|
New York Times
February 20, 2005
THE CITY
Seeing Orange
By TED CAPLOW
HE exhibit that began last weekend in Central Park is many things to
many people. For me and my beagle, Hazel, with whom I share a daily walk
to work through the park, "The Gates" is just a distraction.
What she wants to know is, where have all the squirrels gone? What I
want to know is, from the standpoint of industrial ecology, how can
Christo and Jeanne-Claude justify the environmental impact of this
project?
On their Web site, the artists, with apparent pride, declare that
"The Gates" has required 10½ million pounds of steel, 60
miles of vinyl tubing and one million square feet of nylon fabric, plus
thousands upon thousands of steel plates, bolts and nuts to hold the
whole thing together. The plastic tubes and fabric are described as
"recyclable," but no mention is made of the fate of the steel.
According to the United States Department of Energy, the steel industry
in this country consumes about 18 million B.T.U.'s of raw energy to
produce one ton of steel. If the cast steel in "The Gates" is
typical American steel, then making it has required 97 billion B.T.U.'s,
an amount equivalent to the entire annual energy consumption - including
that used to run cars, furnaces, air conditioners and home appliances -
of nearly 500 New York state residents.
Energy for the steel industry is supplied in roughly equal thirds by
coal, natural gas and electricity from the grid. Based on generally
accepted rates of carbon dioxide emissions for these three sources, it
appears that making steel for "The Gates" churned out 7,000
tons of carbon dioxide, equivalent to the combined output of about 1,600
average American cars for a year (carbon dioxide is viewed by most
scientists as a threat to the global climate system). We would have to
plant more than 200 acres of trees and grow them for 10 years to remove
this carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. Central Park has an area of
about 800 acres, but only part of this has trees; and the mature trees
that dominate the park do not absorb carbon dioxide effectively, so we
cannot look to the park to clean up the mess.
In terms of sheer mass, the amount of plastic in "The Gates"
is dwarfed by the steel, but emissions of carbon dioxide, dioxins and
other toxins from plastics manufacturing are also a concern. The plastic
chosen for the supports, polyvinyl chloride, or P.V.C., is an
increasingly controversial material that releases dioxins and other
carcinogens to the air and water during manufacture (and possibly
afterward). Polyvinyl chloride has been singled out as "the poison
plastic" by Greenpeace and other environmental groups. We now have
60 miles of it in the park. Clearly, the squirrels were not consulted on
this choice.
If the plastic used in "The Gates" is in fact recycled (Greenpeace
warns of the "false promise" of polyvinyl chloride recycling,
noting that only 1 percent gets recycled), some credit might be allowed,
but at best this credit would account for only a fraction of the energy
used and emissions produced. Nearly all steel is "recyclable,"
but the recycling rate (around 70 percent nationwide) is already
accounted for in the energy intensity calculations above. More
fundamentally, one cannot dismiss responsibility for the use of a
primary material simply by claiming that this material could be reused.
That's like claiming that no mink were harmed in making your fur coat,
because you might donate it to good will someday.
This is an unenlightened view of ecology. Why could the artists not have
chosen a 100 percent postconsumer material, or better yet, a
biologically derived material, to begin with? Such a choice would have
reduced toxic emissions from the material itself, although we would
still be left with the diesel trucks and propane forklifts scuttling to
and from the park to carry this enormous mass in and out.
It has also been loudly declared that the artists are paying for all of
this out of their own pockets, through the sale of spinoff drawings and
paintings to art collectors. These drawings can be viewed on the
artists' Web site, and all share a pattern of coloration in which the
city and the park, the buildings, the trees, the grass, are devoid of
life, while the "The Gates" are portrayed in vivid color - the
only objects of apparent interest to the artist. The setting could have
just as easily been any other city, or no city at all, and little would
change in the paintings. These depictions of a lifeless New York City
are supposedly financing the materials, manpower and energy required to
bring us "The Gates," but there is no mention of any fee paid
for the pollution of the air and water, to say nothing of the threat to
Hazel's squirrels.
The choice of such an unfortunate orange hue - "saffron" to
the artists, but to the rest of us more evocative of sanitation trucks,
prison uniforms or road pylons - becomes clear: this is the color of
hazard and danger. Hazel and I have chosen to interpret the whole
business as an ecological warning sign.
Ted Caplow, an environmental engineer, is the executive director of Fish
Navy, a nonprofit organization that promotes sustainable technology.
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/02/20/opinion/opinionspecial/20CIcaplow.html?
Although The Gates are a nice distraction from the bitter Winter weather
and leafless tree landscape, I agree with this op-ed.
|
|
The Gates and employment
$21 Million…for what?
As one of the “paid volunteers” on Christo-Jeanne Claude’s The
Gates, Central Park, New York City, the most frequent comment I
heard was something about the $21 million that had been spent.
While describing my experience on The Gates project to my
husband, he commented that it was collectively realized. Bingo! Christo-Jeanne
Claude’s art is always a project that involves hundreds, if not
thousands, of people…people who help them bring that dream to reality.
So now let’s talk about the $21 million. The people who help Christo-Jeanne
Claude bring that dream to reality do not do it for free. There would be
salaries for the project engineer, the project director, the project
assistants, and the rest of Christo-Jeanne Claude’s team. And some of
these people have been working over two years on this.
But let’s get to the real nuts and bolts of the money – employing
workers at the Gupta Permold plant outside of Pittsburgh who constructed
the aluminum corner sleeves; employing workers at the ISG steel mill in
Coatesville, PA who produced 5,290 tons of steel sheets for the base
weights; employing workers at the C. C. Lewis steel plants in
Conshohocken, PA AND in Springfield, MA who took the ISG steel sheets
and turned them into the base weights; employing workers at the J.
Schilgen Company in Emsdetten, Germany who produced the saffron,
recyclable rip-stop nylon fabric; employing workers at Bieri-Zeltaplan
in Taucha, Germany who cut, sewed and rolled the fabric panels and
cocooned them with Velcro; employing workers at the North American
Profiles Group plant in Holmes, NY who manufactured the vinyl poles;
employing people who helped with the 10 containers shipped by boat from
Germany; employing workers at the LMT-Mercer Group in Lawrenceville, NJ
who produced the base plate covers, used to conceal the leveling plate.
Now let’s add the employment of the truck drivers to get those
materials from the New York Harbor, Pittsburgh, Coatesville,
Conshohocken, Springfield, Holmes, Lawrenceville to the assembly plant
in Queens, and the employment of workers at the assembly plant. And my
guess is that was all before November 2004.
Keep going? The workers who put down the base weights throughout Central
Park were paid; more truck drivers were employed to bring the finished
supplies from Queens to Central Park; and how about the bus drivers
employed to take the paid volunteers to training sessions in Queens and
to shuttle them back and forth in Central Park. And remember they’re
paying for the extra security in Central Park, also.
Then we could add in the food. From January 3rd to February 27th, all
the workers in Central Park have been fed lunch every day, and coffee
and pastry in the morning. Does YOUR boss do that for you?
When an artist sells a piece of art, he employs 2 people – himself and
the dealer. Christo-Jeanne Claude spent $21 million and my guess is that
at least ½ to 2/3 of that went towards employing thousands of people.
Hmmmmmmmm…art as employment. Maybe Christo-Jeanne Claude should be
meeting with President Bush.
|
February 14, 2005
METRO MATTERS
It's a Park Whose Time Has Come
By JOYCE PURNICK
IT took nearly a quarter-century to bring Christo and Jeanne-Claude's
"Gates" to Central Park. That does seem a bit extreme, even
for New York. Why so long? Fortunately, it was easy to find out, because
standing near the Sheep Meadow on Saturday morning, watching the
curtains of cheerful saffron fabric being unfurled, was the very man who
first said no, Gordon J. Davis.
Mr. Davis, the former commissioner of parks and recreation, is now such
a fan of the installation that he was wearing an orange hat and lapel
ribbon. But in 1981, he called the original proposal "the wrong
place, the wrong time." It called for a much larger installation
and, unlike the current design, it would have left holes in the dirt and
asphalt. The artists also wanted their show in the fall, rather than in
winter.
But those were not the main complications, Mr. Davis explained.
"The basic reason was, the park was a disaster," he said.
Central Park, hurt by the city's fiscal crisis, had deteriorated and was
dangerous. The Central Park Conservancy, its privately financed savior,
had only been founded in 1980.
"My view was, there will be this wonderful thing for two weeks, and
when it was gone people will look around the park and it will be a
disaster," Mr. Davis said. "This time, the park has been
completely revived, and it's a wonderful place."
But back then, just imagine the public reaction to lavish spending -
even of private dollars - on an artistic fancy in an otherwise shabby
park. That would not have gone over well in a city where every decision
has a political rationale.
Today Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg's enthusiastic support for the project
barely produced a ripple of dissent. If there really is a time for
everything, this is the time for "The Gates." Spend a moment
in the park and it's apparent. The installation has transformed the park
into a public party.
Like Operation Sail celebrating the bicentennial in 1976, or the
fireworks commemorating the Brooklyn Bridge's 100th birthday in 1983,
this is one of those moments in New York - the kind that gets people
together to share something different, exuberant or in this instance,
purely "preposterous," as Heather Tow-Yick put it yesterday in
the park near Harlem.
Ms. Tow-Yick, an assistant to the schools chancellor, quickly added,
"I mean that in a fond way. It's classic New York." The
apricot-tinged park this weekend seemed to mute the city's snarls, to
grant a temporary respite from its insistent frustrations.
Maybe "The Gates" is art, maybe it isn't. But it is
uncomplicated fun to meet people from everywhere, to hear their stories
and even become a fleeting part of them.
Who could not smile at encountering Louise Kershaw and Glynn Moss of
Manchester, England. Despite the winter weather, the young couple had
decided to hold their wedding ceremony in Central Park, knowing nothing
about "The Gates." The new husband and wife pronounced
themselves delighted, if surprised.
"Everyone's been wishing us well," said the bride, looking
slightly dazed, as she and her husband posed for photographs near the
Bethesda Fountain, surrounded by family and a friendly throng of
strangers.
THAT'S the story of the installation - the people, suggested Carl
Petzhold, a retired writer from Hanover, Germany. In Berlin, where the
same artists wrapped the Reichstag with fabric in 1995, "there were
5 million people, and they all excitedly talked to each other, and here
is the same thing," said Mr. Petzhold, who came to New York with
his wife, Sigrid, specifically to see "The Gates."
"People will talk to you, no matter where you come from."
Sophia Ginzburg of Albany, a medical technician, had a similar reaction.
It is, she said, "like a holiday in here."
Barbara Colon, walking her dog, Maxie, near West 104th Street yesterday
was just happy to see more people in the park than usual, though many
fewer than south of 96th Street. "And at last, they finally did
something uptown," added Ms. Colon, who works in investment
banking.
The installation had its critics. But there is no doubt that the 16-day
exhibit is a hit. Just as there was no doubt in 1981 that it would have
been a dud.
"E. B. White wrote that to live in New York you have to be
lucky," said Mr. Davis, the former parks commissioner. "My
corollary is, it's great to live in a city where you are allowed to
change your mind."
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
February 14, 2005
Park Visitors See Saffron, and Businesses See Green
By JENNIFER MEDINA
Dennis Roman hardly had a moment to look up at the towering orange frames
snaking through Central Park, their saffron fabric waving in the Sunday
sun. Not that he minded; he had hot dogs to sell.
On a typical Sunday in February, Mr. Roman said, he usually makes about
$100. By 3 p.m. yesterday, he had already taken in $1,000.
"It's been like this all day," he said. "It's never like
this usually, never."
As the crowds flocked to the park yesterday to gaze at and ponder over
"The Gates," the huge, colorful installation by Christo and his
wife, Jeanne-Claude, businesses inside the park - from merchandise vendors
to caricature artists to major restaurants - were booming. Parking garages
nearby were filled and restaurants along the park's perimeter were packed
with people jockeying for a table.
City officials said they expected tens of thousands of people to show up
for the exhibition, which is to be up for only 16 days, and whose $20
million cost is being borne exclusively by the artists. By the time the
7,500 gates are taken down in two weeks, the city expects to generate $80
million in business, with $2.5 million in city taxes alone, according to
the city's Economic Development Corporation.
The Strand bookstore's mobile stand, along Fifth Avenue near the southeast
corner of the park, is normally closed from December to March, but decided
to open because of "The Gates," according to a salesperson,
Kevin Crow. He estimated that about 100 customers showed up on Saturday,
10 percent more than any other day. Books about "The Gates" and
about previous projects of Christo and Jeanne-Claude made up most of the
sales, he said.
While business slowed "the tiniest bit" yesterday, Mr. Crow
said, it was still considered a major success. Dozens of other vendors who
would typically spend winter in business hibernation came out yesterday,
prompted in part by the sunny skies.
Stacey Berna, who makes and sells animal balloons for whatever customers
are willing to pay, said she stayed home on Saturday, waiting to see how
large the crowds would be and what the weather would bring. As she stood
outside jacketless, she smiled at the sun and the crowds..
"This is just a lot of fun," she said, adding that she had about
150 customers by midafternoon. While she would typically see twice that in
July, she was happy just to have a small bonus. "At this time of
year, I'm home with my children," she said. She continued, "If
it stays like this, it could be a busy couple of weeks."
The Boathouse restaurant usually shuts its doors for dinner in the winter,
but the general manager, Fonda Tsironis, said it would stay open every
night during the exhibit. There was a two-hour wait for a table early last
evening and it was already booked for tonight, Mr. Tsironis said.
"We've been turning away people all day," he said, motioning to
the tables full of brunch diners. "We love this, every minute of it.
This is the kind of thing New York is made for."
He estimated that about 40 percent of customers were tourists and that
during the week the number of lunch diners would more than triple,
totaling 250 to 300.
With panoramic windows stretching across the dining room, Mr. Tsironis had
plenty of occasion to look at the way the fabric swinging from the gates
changed with the wind and the light. Christo and Jeanne-Claude had stopped
by earlier in the day and received a standing ovation, but had not stopped
to eat, Mr. Tsironis said. "I don't know where he's eating, or if
he's eating," he said with a laugh. "He probably doesn't have
time."
Neither did the park's busy vendors, most of whom shrugged or laughed when
asked what they thought of the spectacle that had brought out so many
customers.
"I don't really understand it," said Sharif Sadiq, a 45-year-old
sketch artist from Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn. He'd sold three caricatures
by 4 p.m. and was hopeful he would sell a few more before nightfall.
"Normally it's just one, so that's a major improvement," he
said. "I just hope there are tourists, because city people don't
usually come to buy this."
Miguel Ixco was completely uninterested in discussing the finer points of
art as he pulled out a thick stack of bills and counted his day's earnings
from selling cotton candy.
"It's not all that much," as he folded back $70. "But it's
more than I'd usually have. There are so many people here, they have to
buy something eventually."
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
February 13, 2005
AN APPRAISAL
In a Saffron Ribbon, a Billowy Gift to the City
By MICHAEL KIMMELMAN
Slide
Show
It is a long, billowy saffron ribbon meandering through Central Park --
not a neat bow, but something that's very much a gift package to New York
City. "The Gates," by Christo and his wife, Jeanne-Claude, was
officially unveiled yesterday.
Thousands of swaths of pleated nylon were unfurled to bob and billow in
the breeze. In the winter light, the bright fabric seemed to warm the
fields, flickering like a flame against the barren trees. Even at first
blush, it was clear that "The Gates" is a work of pure joy, a
vast populist spectacle of good will and simple eloquence, the first great
public art event of the 21st century. It remains on view for just 16 days.
Consider yourself forewarned. Time is fleeting.
On a partly sunny, chilly morning, with helicopters buzzing overhead and
mobs of well-wishers on hand, an army of paid helpers gradually released
the panels of colored fabric from atop the 16-foot-tall gates, all 7,500
of them. The shifting light couldn't have been better to show off the
effects of the cloth. Sometimes the fabric looked deep orange; at other
times it was shiny, like gold leaf, or silvery or almost tan. In the
breeze, the skirted gates also appeared to shimmy like dancers in a conga
line, the cloth buckling and swaying.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude drove around slowly to watch the progress. Fans
mobbed their car. Like all projects by this duo, "The Gates" is
as much a public happening as it is a vast environmental sculpture and a
feat of engineering. It has required more than 1 million square feet of
vinyl and 5,300 tons of steel, arrayed along 23 miles of footpaths
throughout the park at a cost (borne exclusively by the artists) of $20
million.
I hadn't been quite sure when I first saw the project going up last week.
From outside the park, the gates looked like endless rows of inert orange
dominoes overwhelming Frederick Law Olmsted's and Calvert Vaux's
masterpiece.
But as the artists have insisted, the gates aren't made to be seen from
above or from outside. I stopped in at a friend's office high above
Central Park South yesterday and ogled the panorama, which was lovely. But
it was beside the point. It's the difference between sitting in a skybox
at Giants Stadium and playing the game on the field. The gates need to be
- they are conceived to be - experienced on the ground, at eye level,
where, as you move through the park, they crisscross and double up, rising
over hills, blocking your view of everything except sky, then passing
underfoot, through an underpass, or suddenly appearing through a copse of
trees, their fabric fluttering in the corner of your eye.
There are no bad locales for seeing them. But there are some spots at
which the work looks best: around the Heckscher ball fields, where the
gates are dense and lines of them swarm in many directions at once; at the
base of Strawberry Fields, where two parallel rows march in tight
syncopation; at Harlem Meer, where they cluster up to the shore and then
clamber, helter-skelter, up the rocks. Also at Great Hill, near West 106th
Street, where they encircle the crescent field, then descend a flight of
steep steps.
And at North Meadow, a wide-open vista, where the gates wander off toward
the horizon, separating earth and sky with an undulating saffron band.
People preened under the unfurled gates, watching the fabric sway. Now one
no longer ambles through the park, but rather saunters below the flapping
nylon. Paths have become like processionals, boulevards decked out as if
with flags for a holiday. Everyone is suddenly a dignitary on parade.
A century and a half ago, Olmsted talked about the park as a place of
dignity for the masses, a great locus of democratic ideals, influencing
"the minds of men through their imaginations." It's useful to
recall that Christo conceived of "The Gates" 26 years ago, when
Central Park was in abominable shape. The project had something of a
reclamation mission about it, in keeping with Christo's uplifting agenda.
He was born in Bulgaria in 1935 and escaped the Soviet bloc for Paris in
1958. His philosophy has always been rooted in the utopianism of Socialist
Realism, with its belief in art for Everyman.
But in place of the gigantic monuments of Mother Russia, forced upon the
Soviet public and financed by the state, he has imagined a purely abstract
art, open-ended in its meanings, paid for by the artist, and requiring the
persuasion of the public through an open political process.
After which the art comes and goes. "Once upon a time" is a
phrase Christo likes. Once upon a time, he imagines people will say, there
were "The Gates" in Central Park.
Central Park is in fine shape today, but the project still has a social
value, in gathering people together for their shared pleasure. Some
purists will complain that the art spoils a sanctuary, that the park is
perfect as it is, which it is. But the work, I think, pays gracious homage
to Olmsted's and Vaux's abiding pastoral vision: like immense Magic Marker
lines, the gates highlight the ingenious and whimsical curves, dips and
loops that Olmsted and Vaux devised as antidotes to the rigid grid plan of
the surrounding city streets and, by extension, to the general hardships
of urban life.
The gates, themselves a cure for psychic hardship, remind us how much
those paths vary, in width, and height, like the crowds of people who walk
along them. More than that, being so sensitive to nature, they make us
more sensitive to its effects.
We didn't need the gates to make us sensitive, obviously. Art is never
necessary. It is merely indispensable.
At its best, it leads us toward places we might not have thought to visit.
Victor Hugo once said, "There is nothing more interesting than a wall
behind which something is happening." This also applies to gates,
which beckon people to discover what is beyond them.
With their endless self-promotion, and followers trailing them like
Deadheads from one global gig to another, it's no wonder that Christo and
Jeanne-Claude have made a few skeptics of people who often have not seen
their art at first hand. New Yorkers are a notoriously tough crowd.
But I was struck by what I overheard a stranger say. She was a doubter won
over yesterday. "It will be fascinating when they're gone," she
mused.
It took me a second to realize what she meant: that the gates, by
ravishing the eye, have already impressed an image of the park on the
memories of everyone who has seen them. And like all vivid memories, that
image can take a place in the imagination, like a smell or some notes of
music or a breeze, waiting to be rekindled.
Once upon a time there were "The Gates." The time is now.
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
February 13, 2005
Dressing Up in Orange, and Pleats
By JAMES BARRON

Volunteers unfurled "The Gates" installation throughout New
York's Central Park on Sunday.

The weather was windy and cold as the first fabric dropped from one of the
7,500 16-foot-high gates, creating what the artists billed as "a
visual golden river'' along the park's footpaths.
Video:
Unveiling 'The Gates' in Central Park
o that is what 1.089 million yards of
orange-yellow fabric looks like, floating and fluttering and flapping in
Central Park.
The giant $21 million art project "The Gates," which had already
filled the park's 23 miles of pathways with thousands of saffron-colored
portals, blossomed yesterday at 8:31 a.m., just as the artist Christo and
his wife, Jeanne-Claude, had planned.
They watched as Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg raised a long metal pole to
release fabric from the top of a gate in the Sheep Meadow. Also watching
was a crowd that chanted a countdown like the one heard each New Year's
Eve in Times Square - "Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"- before the
mayor unfurled the fabric on the first gate.
Each and every one of the 7,500 gates had the same cocoon of fabric, and
after Mr. Bloomberg had unfurled four more, workers (hired and paid by the
artists) fanned out through the park to complete the job.
By midmorning, the park's circulatory system had taken on the bright color
of veins twisting and twirling against the gray-and-brown backdrop of
midwinter. The pleated nylon fabric pulsed and swayed at the whim of a
12-mile-an-hour wind - not strong enough to make it snap like a spinnaker
on an America's Cup challenger. The color was almost as fiery and fierce
as the sun that had risen a couple of hours earlier.
"Look at the light," Christo said. "Look, look."
In the crowd, people tried to do exactly that. People who had tried to
imagine what the completed project would look like finally had a glimpse.
Some described them as too-short window shades dangling in the breeze.
Some mentioned squarish out-of-season butterflies. Some were intrigued by
the play of light on the fabric: as the peekaboo sun came and went, the
nylon had a touchable texture one minute and a one-dimensional look the
next. Some echoed what Christo and Jeanne-Claude had said about a river of
bright color against twigs and leafless branches. Some talked about
exhilaration and exuberance. Some were more literal.
"A pleated skirt," said Kathleen Catapano of Brooklyn. She
looked again, and another idea came to mind: "I think it looks like
Jeanne-Claude's hair."
Jeanne-Claude has said that her hair, which is redder than the gates, was
not what prompted them to choose the color. But they consider the public
spectacle of their installations a part of the works themselves. And the
preparation for yesterday's event had been a spectacle of its own.
It began with workers laying the bases for the gates and people talking
about how the bases - dark gray, rectangular and squat - looked like
something out of a step class. That gave way to the idea of a barn-raising
as each gate was fitted together and lifted in place.
"It was like watching an egg hatching slowly," said Olufunmibi
Awoshiley, a hospital administrator, "and I didn't know what it was
going to look like. Now I see it, and it's beautiful."
The unfurling was a payoff of patience and persistence. In 1981, after the
city rejected his original proposal on the ground that it would damage the
park's landscape and set a dangerous precedent, Christo made clear that he
would not give up. "I am in good health," he declared at the
time. "The park is still there, and I will do that project."
Never mind that the Parks Department had issued a 107-page put-down that
said Christo's installation would be "in the wrong place and the
wrong time and in the wrong scale."
The crowds it would draw, seen by the current generation of city officials
as a plus, were considered a negative then. The document also complained
that approval would be "inconsistent" with Parks Department
permit policies, setting a precedent that could force officials to go
along with other large-scale installations.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude spent the 1980's and 1990's wrapping the Pont
Neuf in Paris with fabric and rope; planting blue umbrellas over a
12-mile-long valley in Japan and yellow ones over a 24-mile valley in
California; and wrapping the Reichstag in Berlin with 1.076 million square
feet of silvery fabric and bright blue rope.
What a difference a couple of decades can make. The city gave the go-ahead
in 2003 for a project that was both slimmer and taller than originally
planned. There are 7,500 gates instead of 11,000 to 15,000, as Christo and
Jeanne-Claude had first envisioned.
But each gate is 16 feet high, a foot taller than originally proposed.
Instead of steel poles, as first proposed, the frames of the gates are
square. The fabric is no longer attached like shower curtains but
connected directly to the frames.
And while the first plans called for drilling 15,000 holes in the park to
anchor the gates, the final design has the sturdy bases, which rest on the
ground. It is all temporary.
Once the gates are dismantled at the end of the month, there will be no
sign that they were there - no holes in the ground, no missing limbs from
trees that were trimmed to make room for them.
In places where a gate might have brushed against a branch or a limb, the
tree won. The gate was moved, but only a bit.
The artists have said that there is no best place from which to view the
installation, in their words "a celebration of the processional,
ceremonial walkways of the park." They said they had envisioned the
fabric as "a golden ceiling creating warm shadows" within the
park, and "a golden river appearing and disappearing through the bare
branches of the trees" from above.
They also said, on their Web site (christojeanneclaude.net),
that "there are no official opening events." But the moment with
the mayor, who had been a supporter of the project in private life, came
close.
As soon as it was over, Christo and Jeanne-Claude climbed into a $300,000
limousine and went on an inspection tour.
They left behind a crowd as concerned with views and angles as they were.
The fans realized, as the gates were going up, that the project would have
a decidedly different effect from ground level than from a nearby
apartment or a helicopter.
The fans also realized that "The Gates" had a limited life cycle
- 16 days from yesterday's unfurling. So, like Karen Castellano of Los
Angeles, they had made their travel plans.
"They look like - I don't know, the prettiest curtains I've ever
seen," she said as one gate after another opened in the breeze.
Yvonne Woetzel, a painter from Dusseldorf, Germany, said that she would
not have missed the project.
"It's impressive," she said. "It touches people. And it
makes people happy. And to see the fabric moving - it's so
impressive."
George McElroy of Manhattan, who runs a financial services company,
marveled at the logistics and the statistics. It took 165,000 bolts and an
equal number of self-locking nuts to hold the gates together. Christo's
Web site said there were 46 miles of hems in the fabric. And the length?
"It's 23 miles," he said of "The Gates." "That's
what a marathon is."
Some fans said "The Gates" had been an endurance run for Christo
and Jeanne-Claude. The project's official title, "The Gates, Central
Park, New York, 1979-2005," acknowledges the time it took from
brainstorm to unfurling.
"They waited so long," said Juliana C. Nash, a public relations
researcher. "It's almost like Camilla and Charles."
Yesterday, Jeanne-Claude had a one word description for her reaction to
the completed installation: "Ecstatic."
But everybody is a critic. Consider the assessment of Vinnie D'Angelo, an
artist: "The chunky gate shape, the bright colors - it seems like a
70's aesthetic."
His friend Seth Bomse, a film editor, said he found the initial unfurling
lacking. "It was kind of disappointing close up," he said,
"but I like it from a distance."
Ann Farmer, Colin Moynihan and Stephanie Rosenbloom contributed
reporting for this article.
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
February 12, 2005
'The Gates' Unfurling to High Hopes
By RANDY KENNEDY
With 45 television cameras in front of him and a view of bright orange
vinyl gates stretching through Central Park behind him, Mayor Michael R.
Bloomberg said yesterday that the city expected an infusion of $80
million in tourism and other spending by people flocking to see
"The Gates," the vast public art project by the artists
Christo and Jeanne-Claude.
Worldwide interest in the project was clear at the news conference at
the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where journalists from more than 200
media outlets, including networks in Sweden, Mexico City and Tokyo and
others as unusual as Bulgarian national television, crowded into the
Temple of Dendur to hear the mayor and the two artists discuss the
project, whose saffron-colored fabric panels will be unfurled this
morning.
For Mr. Bloomberg - who has reduced the city's arts budget amid general
cutbacks but has also emerged as the strongest promoter of public art at
City Hall in decades - the event was a chance to bask in the glow of a
near-perfect blockbuster project: one that comes at no cost to the city
(the artists are paying for everything, including extra police officers)
and that will attract thousands of art pilgrims to New York during a
month when tourism is traditionally at its lowest.
"With no ticket sales of any kind it's impossible to predict
exactly how big an impact 'The Gates' will have during its 16-day stay
here," Mr. Bloomberg said, "but based on attendance at similar
events and other factors, the city's Economic Development Corporation
estimates that the project will generate more than $80 million in
economic activity for our city."
The $20 million project was originally conceived by the artists in 1979
and was rejected by three mayoral administrations before Mr.
Bloomberg's, in part because of concerns about its cost and about damage
to the park.
The mayor, who first became interested in the notion of "The
Gates" in 1995 as a trustee of the Central Park Conservancy, made
light of the project's long history yesterday, saying that it took
Michelangelo four years to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and
Beethoven five years to write the Ninth Symphony. "Mere blinks of
an eye," he said, "compared to the time that it took to build
the masterpiece that we are celebrating today."
"I can't promise," he added, "particularly since this is
New York, that every single person will love 'The Gates,' but I
guarantee that they will all talk about it."
"And that's really what innovative, provocative art is supposed to
do," he added, as Jeanne-Claude and Christo sat next to him.
Vince Davenport, the project's engineer, said that teams of workers
would be standing by in case any of the 16-foot-high gates broke or were
pushed down, and that a gate could be replaced in less than an hour. But
both he and Raymond W. Kelly, the police commissioner, said they did not
anticipate many problems, from either vandals or the weather. Mr.
Davenport said that teams would begin manually unfurling the fabric at
8:30 a.m. and that all of the panels should be released by about 11.
Asked often yesterday to explain the meaning of the project, Christo and
Jeanne-Claude emphasized that its meaning would have to be found by
those who walked through the 7,500 gates, spread over 23 miles of
walkways.
"It has no purpose," Jeanne-Claude said. "It is not a
symbol. It is not a message. It is only a work of art."
But Christo explained that it related in some ways to the unrealized
plans of Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux, the park's designers,
to place iron gates at many of the entrances to the park. He added that
the fabric panels, which will blow and curve in the wind, are also meant
to remind viewers of the park's serpentine paths and the curves of the
empty branches of the trees above them.
After answering several questions, however, Christo became clearly
frustrated by trying to explain his work and emphatically urged
experience over rational inquiry. "This project is not involved
with talk," he said. "It is real physical space. You need to
spend time walking in the cold air - sunny day, rainy day, even snow. It
is not necessary to talk."
EDITORIAL NOTEBOOK
At Last, the Gates Wave in Central Park
By CAROLYN CURIEL
Few artists can make a global splash like Christo and Jeanne-Claude, who
are spouses and collaborators. Their public art creations are not so
much displayed as audaciously imposed: installations that employ
landscapes and buildings as mannequins and pincushions. They put pink
skirts on islands off Florida, silver draping around the Reichstag in
Berlin and colorful umbrellas in fields in Southern California and
Japan. As a successor to these phenomena, "The Gates," which
unfurls today in Central Park, adds another dimension, a certain
humanity within the grandeur.
The artists' earlier inventions were often remote, away from urban areas
or other easily accessible settings. The splendor depended on what
photographs or aerial video could capture. Not so with "The
Gates." For 16 days, "The Gates" will be in place, with
7,500 saffron-colored panels hanging above pedestrians like slices of
sunlight.
Streaming along 23 miles of walkways in Central Park - the most-visited
park in the nation's largest city - the installation invites interaction
and exploration. The artists have said the saffron color of the fabric
and frames was chosen simply because they like it, but it seems a prompt
for meditation and reflection. Still, visitors shouldn't expect a lot of
peace and quiet. New Yorkers and tourists are expected to crowd the
park, an unusual circumstance in the month of February.
As with their previous 18 large works, Christo and Jeanne-Claude
financed the full cost, some $20 million. They also paid with time and
perseverance. It took a quarter-century to realize their vision, which
finally won approval after the election of Mayor Michael Bloomberg. Only
in the last few weeks did the scope of the project become clear, with
the frames springing up as if ready for a giant round of croquet.
On one recent day, crew members hoisted poles into place and took in
early reviews from passers-by. One called it an abomination, but others
seemed more enthralled. One woman, who described herself as a landscape
painter, called the work in progress "an environmental
happening." Another woman, on skates and carrying a Bergdorf
Goodman bag, tried unsuccessfully to volunteer to help on the spot. In
the dead of winter, when sensations can go as numb as uncovered ears,
Christo and Jeanne-Claude and their legions of helpers are at the very
least succeeding in awakening sentiments.
Critics can argue that Central Park does not need the fuss. But maybe
New Yorkers do, in the form of this bright respite.
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
February 11, 2005
Above the Park, When 'The Gates' Open
By JAMES BARRON
Suddenly, New Yorkers with friends in high places are wondering: Are their
friends in the right high places, that is, overlooking Central Park? And
when is their party?
"The Gates," a $20 million art project by the artist Christo and
his wife, Jeanne-Claude, opens tomorrow in Central Park, and it promises
to be a social event, not just an artistic one.
"Everybody I know who lives around the park is doing parties for 'The
Gates,' said Annaliese Soros, who is planning two parties in her apartment
on Central Park West. "The Christo events are happenings, and they
attract a lot of enthusiasm. They attract a lot of people. They do
something very special and very different. Berlin had five million
tourists when he draped the Reichstag. We won't have that many here."
She meant in the city, not in her apartment. But some party-givers say the
crowd they are expecting is bigger than they had originally planned. The
guest list grew as friends called, and friends of friends and friends of
friends of friends.
The 7,500 gates in the project have been installed throughout this week.
Tomorrow morning, fabric will be unfurled from atop them. The project will
be on view for 16 days.
Donna Rosen, who lives on the 43rd floor of a building a couple of blocks
south of Mrs. Soros's, recalled her conversations with her caterer,
Gretchen Aquanita, as they planned an open house in Mrs. Rosen's
apartment. "I said, 'I think 75,' " Mrs. Rosen said. "Then
I called again, 'I think we might be over 100.' Then I called, '200.' She
said, 'Ahhgggh.' "
As the gates were being set in place beneath Mrs. Rosen's floor-to-ceiling
windows on Wednesday, the count was up to 240, and she was talking about
Ms. Aquanita's plans for a menu to match the orange color of the
fabric-covered gates on the park's pedestrian paths.
"She said, 'Shall we use saffron?' " Mrs. Rosen recalled.
"I said, 'Of course.' " Ms. Aquanita began planning shrimp and
saffron salad.
Gail May Engelberg, who has invited friends to her apartment on Fifth
Avenue, remembered chatting with Christo a couple of years ago at an event
for the Guggenheim Museum. "I said, 'How's the project coming?'
" she recalled. "I wanted to host my friends and be able for
them to have a look down on 'The Gates' whether there is snow or ice or
sunny blue skies."
For some, just looking out the window was not enough to make sure they had
a clear view. "I walked over to the park to make sure that I could
see the two windows of my apartment," said Rosamond Ivey, a trustee
of the Art Gallery of Ontario, who is giving a "Gates" cocktail
party in her apartment on East 79th Street between Madison Avenue and Park
Avenue late next week.
Her guests will have drinks at her apartment after inspecting "The
Gates" on a walk through the park. Then they will go to the
Metropolitan Museum of Art for dinner, where David Moos, the curator of
contemporary art at the Ontario museum, will be joined by Jonathan
Feinberg, an art historian who wrote a monograph on "The Gates."
Mr. Moos, whose museum has a Christo exhibition on display, said he is
looking forward to seeing "The Gates" from ground level and from
Ms. Ivey's apartment.
"If you think of Central Park as the great democratic American space,
Jeffersonian, Whitmanic, in the heart of the metropolis, it is interesting
to contemplate who has access to the aerial view," he said. "It
puts into relief this political dimension."
And then there are the corporate parties. Budget Living magazine, for
example, sent invitations for a breakfast-lunch-or-midday-break party that
will begin at 8:30 a.m. Tuesday in a 24th-floor apartment with Oscar de la
Renta furniture and 10 Christo images on the walls.
"It's more like a moving cocktail party all day, until it gets
dark," said Donald E. Welsh, the magazine's founder.
And no, it will not break Budget Living's budget: the apartment, the
furniture and the Christos are all borrowed.
Mrs. Soros, who lives on the ninth floor, will be closer to "The
Gates."
"It will be like watching the Thanksgiving Day parade," she
said. "I can practically touch the floats, and whoever is on the 36th
floor cannot. From up there, you get, obviously, an idea. Down here, it's
much more real and touchable. Here, you feel you want to go out and walk
through the park and just be there."
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
February 11, 2005
Art in the Park Calls for More Than Velvet Ropes
By JENNIFER 8. LEE
It is one thing to guard a Fabergé egg or the Mona Lisa. Any experienced
security expert can list the basic tactics: velvet ropes, glass display
cases and infrared beams.
But how to protect art made up of 7,500 gates sprawled over 23 miles of
trail in an 843-acre park whose entrances are never fully closed, even at
night?
The problem with protecting public art is, well, it's public.
The usual safeguards are of little use when the artists envision visitors
walking through their creation, a luminous river of saffron fabric in
Central Park.
"To cordon this off would be detrimental to the aesthetic of the
display," said Chris Grniet, a vice president at Kroll, the security
company.
So "The Gates, Central Park, New York City, 1979-2005," by the
husband and wife team of Christo and Jeanne-Claude, has prompted one of
the largest efforts by the New York Police Department to protect a single
installation of art - proportional to the attention-grabbing nature of the
exhibit, which is expected to draw at least 200,000 tourists to New York
when it opens tomorrow for a 16-day run.
The department is dispatching helicopters that broadcast live aerial
feeds, building a 24-hour command center in the Loeb Boathouse at the park
and adding several hundred police officers to the park's 125-person police
force. There will be 20 officers on horseback and 43 on scooter patrol. In
addition, the artists have hired a 36-person private security team to
maintain round-the-clock surveillance.
Raymond W. Kelly, the police commissioner, said the artists would
reimburse the city for any costs it incurs, including the increased
security.
The department has also set up an 87-officer detail to translate in five
foreign languages: French, Italian, German, Japanese and Chinese. And it
has published a guide to the exhibit.
Officials say the exhibit was designed to be durable. "The nature of
the installation makes it very hard to vandalize," said Adrian Benepe,
the New York City parks commissioner.
But public art has always been a target for vandalism, especially the
popular animal statues that many cities have commissioned over the last
several years.
In July, a 250-pound panda statue, along with its 650-pound concrete base,
was stolen from a busy street corner in Washington, baffling the police.
The body turned up five months later - dumped in a creek 20 miles away.
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
February 10, 2005
Central Park Makeover: Reality Show, in a Way
By CAROL VOGEL
Slide
Show: It's a Wrap
Video:
Work Begins on "The Gates"
At 6:45 a.m. on Tuesday, as the sun was beginning to rise over Central
Park, the Loeb Boathouse was buzzing. The artist Christo stood outside,
admiring the way the soft morning light bathed the orange gates that
teams of workers had put into place on Monday.
It was Day Two of installing his vast $20 million public art project,
created with his wife, Jeanne-Claude, and there was a sense that there
was no time to lose. So far, 261 16-foot-tall gates had sprouted around
the park. By tomorrow evening, 7,500 will have to be in place along the
park's pedestrian walkways from 59th Street to 110th Street, in time for
the saffron-colored fabric that adorns the gates to be unfurled around
8:30 on Saturday morning. (The project will remain through Feb. 27.)
Inside the boathouse, the 600-odd paid volunteers enlisted for the
five-day job were chatting over coffee and rolls, waiting to head off to
their assigned areas. Things had gotten off to a slow start on Monday.
It had taken time for the workers to assemble, find their work areas and
figure out the most efficient way to work.
Still, every team seemed competitively conscious of its accomplishments.
"We installed 27 gates yesterday," boasted Ann W. Richards,
the former governor from Texas.
"There's something magical about people coming together for a
common purpose without something for them to gain," she added.
"I'm having a ball."
"There's real energy," agreed Antoine Douaihy, who oversees
150 people in 14 teams as the leader of Area One - extending from 59th
Street to 65th Street and from Fifth Avenue to Central Park West - and
in real life works in film production. "One team refused to stop
until they had put up 25 gates."
Also savoring the scene was Anne L. Strauss, a curator at the
Metropolitan Museum of Art who organized an exhibition of Christo and
Jeanne-Claude's "Gates"-related drawings, collages,
photographs and maps last year. "There are a lot of art people
here," she said.
While each team seemed diverse in age and profession, from college
students to retired teachers and doctors, all had a common bond: a
resolve to be a part of the city's biggest public-art happening ever.
By 7:30 a.m., after a pep talk from Vince Davenport, the project's chief
engineer and construction director, and from Capt. Andrew Capul,
commanding officer of the Central Park Precinct, everyone headed off to
their assigned areas.
Although Mr. Douaihy called the 261 gates installed on Monday a
"respectable" figure, he said that 400 to 500 more would have
to go up Tuesday if the effort was to be completed by Friday.
Cruising around the park in a golf cart, he consulted with Guy Efrat,
one of the area's so-called "zone supervisors." (Each area is
divided into zones, and each zone into teams.) Mr. Efrat, who also works
in movie production, was overseeing three teams in Mr. Douaihy's area.
Like mutual strangers in a reality television show, each team felt
somewhat randomly thrown together. But often, the common strand was art:
Area One, Section 10, for instance, was made up of a performance artist,
an advertising art director, a retired doctor/Yale University professor,
a sculptor/gilder, an architect, an architectural draftsman, a freelance
stagehand and a recent college graduate who is on his way to become an
intern at the Chinati Foundation, a contemporary-art organization in
Marfa, Tex.
"I've never seen so many artsy people in my life," said
Huascar Pimentel, the stagehand, who is one of the professional workers
that was assigned to the team. "These guys are great - they don't
mind getting their hands dirty."
Nor did the men mind taking directions from a woman, although some of
them joked about it. ("You don't see this much cooperation in the
workplace," said Robert Steigelman, the advertising art director.)
Catherine Courter, the sculptor and gilder, had been named the team's
captain by the organizers. Michael Bianco, the recent graduate, and
Arvin Garay-Cruz, the architect, had been asked to be the
"levelers," the team members who made sure that the steel
plates anchoring the poles in heavy bases were installed correctly.
Each worker had attended a four-hour training session last week where
the professionals took notes on those who demonstrated leadership
ability (potential team captains) or mechanical ability (levelers).
It took only about three minutes for the workers to actually hoist a
gate into place. The hard part was using the right size horizontal poles
(which depended on the width of walkways) and wielding nuts, bolts and
wrenches to attach parts like the orange boxlike sleeves that conceal
the metal plates. And some spots were more difficult than others. On
heavily trafficked paths, installers often had to stop working to let
pedestrians pass. Hilly or narrow paths were harder to work on.
And then there was the saccharine music emanating nonstop from the ice
rink. And the remarks of passersby. "I can't work it out - it
horrifies me that this is costing $20 million, I don't care who's paying
for it," a man carrying a briefcase said as he hurried past the
workers of Area One, Section 10, on West 59th Street behind the Wollman
Skating Rink.
Still, most people who stopped to chat had positive reactions. "I'm
not sure about the color, but I'm a fan," Douglas F. Eaton, a
United States District Court judge, said after his daily round of
skating.
On Monday the team members installed only 18 gates. But by 10:15 on
Tuesday morning they were already putting up the 11th of the day. The
key was establishing a rhythm: one person repeatedly readied the
equipment for the levelers, and the levelers would begin their task as
others trundled the gates over to their assigned positions.
"This is my cheap and cheerful vacation," Robert Condon, the
architectural draftsman, said, holding a pole in position. By noon the
team headed back to the boathouse for lunch, leaving Mr. Pimentel behind
to watch the equipment. (That job rotates among teammates each day.)
"Can you believe it, this was conceived the year I was born?"
Mr. Cruz, 26, said as the group ambled toward the boathouse. (Christo
and Jeanne-Claude have been working on "The Gates" since
1979.)
"If you look at one gate, it's ugly, it looks like a
guillotine," he mused. "It's the multiplicity of them that
makes it a total artwork."
"The more go up, the cooler it looks," Ms. Courter agreed over
lunch in the packed boathouse. Team members sat together, chatting
happily while keeping a wary ear open to find out how many gates the
other teams had installed.
Then it was back to their assigned area near the rink. By 4 p.m., Area
One, Section 10, had managed to install a total of 35 gates. Exhausted,
the team members returned their supplies to a nearby staging area and
began planning for Wednesday.
After ticking off the completed gates on a map, Ms. Courter started
counting those that would have to be installed on Wednesday.
"Thirty-five again tomorrow," she said. "No
problem."
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
11-Jan-2005
New York Art Project Made in Germany
Ever since they shrouded Berlin's Reichstag, most Germans know artist duo
Christo and Jeanne-Claude. Germany plays a role in their latest work in
New York too, this time weaving and stitching their trademark fabric.
A decade ago, Christo and Jeanne-Claude created a sensation when they
swaddled the German Reichstag or parliament building in shimmering silver
fabric for two weeks in a statement of Berlin's Cold War east-west
political divide.
As the artist duo prepare for their latest art installation in New York --
setting up 7,500 gates hung with panels of saffron-colored fabric in
Central Park -- Germany is once again involved. Few know that much of the
handiwork for "The Gates," as the New York art installation is
called, was done across the Atlantic in small workshops in sleepy German
towns.
And, as if in a continuing vein of the artists' Reichstag project,
Germany's once divided halves are in it together: a manufacturing company
in Taucha near Leipzig in eastern Germany and a weaving mill in the town
of Emsdette, near Münster in western Germany, have labored separately to
ensure that "The Gates" opens as scheduled on Feb. 12.
Both companies have worked for the Bulgarian-born Christo and his French
wife and co-artist Jeanne-Claude before. There's little doubt that the
high-profile New York project is a further feather in their cap.
Klaus Schirmer, head of production at the Schilden company, which wove the
sturdy sheets of polyamide imprinted with an intricate honeycomb design in
saffron yellow for "The Gates," said it wasn't a routine
commission.
"It is definitely special. It's probably not everyday that one can
associate art with a technical weaving mill. Thus this whole Christo thing
is really special and of course very, very important to us," Schirmer
told Deutsche Welle during the manufacturing stage last year.
Christo reportedly paid the weaving mill around €400,000 ($524,000) for
100,000 square meters of polyamide textile, the normal price according to
the company.
For the tiny sewing workshop in Taucha, which belonged to the Communist
East German government and has now been bought over by the Swiss Bieri
Group, the Christo commission brought welcome relief to its workers.
"It's a nice change," Susann Reihe, who has been stitching
together the fabric panels for Christo and Jeanne-Claude's New York
artwork for the past year in Taucha, told German broadcaster WDR. "We
normally do protective weather-proof covers for cars, party-tents and the
like, that demands a whole lot of painstaking work," Reihe said.
"This is really lovely in contrast."
Christo's project manager Wolfgang Volz said that the Taucha-based Bieri
Zeltaplan company had already proven its skills and quality during the
Reichstag wrapping project.
"At the time we had a really good experience with them," Volz
told WDR. "That's why we approached them again."
Roland Eilenberger, head of Bieri Zeltaplan is clear that the commission
has also brought the company much prestige in their line of work.
"Naturally, you can't market such a project in the same way that you
would perhaps bring out a luxurious product on the market,"
Eilenberger said. "But, overall, in the textile industry it's pretty
unique to able to work and complete such a mammoth project."
The company shipped off the last of the fabric panels to New York last
November.
"The Gates" is just the latest in a string of gigantic public
art pieces that the conceptual artists are known for, most of which have
involved wrapping swathes of fabric around massive objects.
Among their more memorable projects, was a hanging of a curtain between
two peaks in a Colorado valley, wrapping the Pont Neuf in Paris,
embellishing several islands off Florida with tutus, the wrapping of the
Reichstag and opening 3,100 umbrellas in Japan and California.
"The Gates," which like most of the artist duo's works is
monumental but temporary, will consist of five-meter-high gates placed at
intervals of about 3.5 meters along 37 kilometers of footpaths throughout
New York's Central Park. The saffron-colored fabric panels will be
suspended from each gate, falling to two meters above the ground.
The installation is designed to pay tribute to the park's half-planned
topography as well as to evoke the structure of the surrounding city
blocks.
As with most of Christo and Jeanne-Claude's projects, the fabric is
central to the installation. This time the saffron color is meant to
symbolize a park in full bloom.
Author DW staff (sp)
http://www.dw-world.de/
© Deutsche Welle
|
New York Daily News - http://www.nydailynews.com/
Open shutter on 'Gates'
Monday, January 17th, 2005
It took 26 years for landscape artist Christo and his wife,
Jeanne-Claude, to get permission to erect their "Gates"
project in Central Park.
Legendary documentary film maker Albert Maysles caught the process on
tape.
About 100 hours of it, anyway.
And although Christo's 7,500 tubular gates with saffron-colored fabric
panels will decorate 23 miles of pathways in the park for a mere 15
days, Feb. 12-27, Maysles, 71, and directing partner Antonio Ferrera,
28, promise a film for the ages.
They also pledge to make a distinctly New York film, starring Central
Park and what Maysles calls "the collage" of people around it.
"Central Park is sort of this egalitarian place, this Arcadia,
where all of New York comes together to play and do their thing,"
Ferrera said. "'The Gates'" sort of underlines that."
Maysles and his late brother, David, used hand-held cameras and sound
equipment to revolutionize documentaries with films like "The
Beatles: First U.S. Visit" and "Gimme Shelter," their
1974 film about the Rolling Stones tour that culminates in the
disastrous California concert at Altamont.
The brothers caught on film a Hells Angels member, hired to provide
security, killing a fan who tried to rush the stage. Maysles has one of
the cameras used at Altamont in his home at the Dakota on Central Park
West.
Maysles and the Christos have a long history together - "The
Gates" will be the sixth documentary Maysles has done with them
since he and his brother met the pair in Paris in 1962.
The collaboration has worked because their methods are the same, a sort
of Zen acceptance that whatever happens, happens and becomes a part of
the artistic process.
"In a good documentary, you never know what will happen next. Half
or more of the Christos' projects is the unknown reaction to it,"
Maysles said. "They don't know what the weather is going to be.
That's okay. Maybe it will snow. Maybe a rainbow crosses the park at
that time. So much the better."
The city's reluctance to approve the "Gates" project added a
bit of cinéma vérité to the film. Because they have film spanning
each of the Christos' requests and city rejections since the artists'
first attempt in 1979, the audience gets to watch various officials, and
the Christos, age on film.
"So the viewer gets to watch these evolutions of the project and
the people involved," Ferrara said. "People go from being
young people in the '70s to who they are today. One guy who was against
it has hair in the '70s. Now he's bald."
"So many people think of interviews in documentaries, but what is
important is that person you are filming experiencing something,"
Maysles said. "You are experiencing things those people
experience."
The Christos modified their proposal over the years to win city
approval. For instance, they abandoned the idea of drilling holes to
anchor each gate in the pathway and instead constructed portable stands
for each.
And the couple's success over the years with their massive works - they
covered the Reichstag in Germany in silver fabric and strung yellow
umbrellas across the California countryside, for example - made the
Central Park project more palatable to local officials.
Maysles said he is also proud that this is a film without a point.
"At our best, we are making a film that has no particular
purpose," he said. "You talk to the Christos, they say there
is no purpose to their art, just a thing of beauty to be enjoyed. So is
this film. When you think about it, Shakespeare, what is the
purpose?"
The documentary crew spends hours a day filming all aspects of "The
Gates" assembly and construction. The filmmakers expect to winnow
the estimated 100 hours of videotape to a 90-minute film.
Then there is the money.
Unlike the Christos, who pay for all of their projects by selling the
equivalent of storyboard sketches of each - Maysles has two of them -
the filmmaker is still raising the estimated $80,000 he will need to
complete the documentary.
|
February 8, 2005
A Filmmaker's 50 Years of Reassuring Intimacy
By KATHRYN SHATTUCK
The scene left a lot to the imagination. On a sun-drenched day last week
in Central Park, the only evidence of "The Gates," New York
City's biggest public art project ever, was several thousand dark steel
bases poking through a layer of snow.
But for the 78-year-old filmmaker Albert
Maysles, whose mission it has been to record a
quarter-century of work on the project by the artists Christo and
Jeanne-Claude, the site had potential. The saffron-colored panels that
will billow across 23 miles of park footpaths will not be unfurled until
Saturday, but 11 days in advance, Mr. Maysles knew that people would
already be talking about it.
"I'd like to find a group already involved in a discussion about
the work," he said, alighting from a golf cart at the Great Lawn.
A barely perceptible frown clouded the white-haired filmmaker's face,
framed by black spectacles. Except for a few pedestrians wandering by,
nothing much was happening.
Finally, camera in hand, he approached a tattooed woman who was sitting
on a bench in a spaghetti-strapped camisole and trousers, her two white
dogs the only apparent source of warmth.
"Let me feel you," he said after a few minutes of casual
conversation, placing his hand on her bare shoulder. "My God, it's
warm." He turned to Antonio Ferrera, his co-filmmaker, and motioned
him over. "Feel her shoulder," he said. "Do you believe
it?" Mr. Ferrera reached out and touched her.
It was the Maysles technique - intimate to the point of being unnerving
yet somehow, reassuringly safe. Touched by strange men in the middle of
Central Park, the woman did not flinch.
And so began the first of Mr. Maysles's explorations that afternoon as
he and Mr. Ferrera sidled up to bench-sitters, waved at passers-by,
basked in recognition and filmed - or not, depending on their subjects'
willingness - reactions to The Gates, a project that just about everyone
seemed to have an opinion about, once Mr. Maysles had coaxed them into
revealing it.
A chat with a transplanted Russian couple veered from Mr. Maysles's
visit to Russia in 1955, when as a psychology teacher from Boston
University he cajoled his way into psychiatric hospitals and recorded
what was to become his first film, to the eccentricities of the pianist
Vladimir Horowitz, the subject of another of his documentaries, to the
Russian man's own work as an artist in Central Park upon his arrival in
this country in 1979.
"Christo and I are alike," said the man, Eric Freyman.
"We both relied on the park to survive."
A woman who described herself as "a product of Germany after World
War II" and refused to be filmed, was less enthusiastic about the
project. "Nature does not need adornment," she said, her brow
crinkling.
Mr. Maysles sat down, turned off his camera and began to talk. Soon, the
conversation moved to Prague, where, the woman said, her Jewish mother
had been forced to work in a church during the war.
"My family name is well known there, but spelled differently,"
he said: "Maisels." "Ah, yes, you are Albert Maysles,"
she replied, her face brightening. "Gimme
Shelter." "Salesman."
"Grey
Gardens." She knew his documentaries well.
They talked a bit longer - about her former career as a language
teacher, about his continuing one.
"Well, I still can't say that I approve of this," she said,
finally, gesturing to the base that she was using as a footrest.
"But you've convinced me to keep an open mind."
Mr. Maysles picked up his camera and walked on.
"You know, one experience leads to another," he said, inching
closer to his listener until their noses were almost touching. "In
the end, 'The Gates' become connectors between lives."
Mr. Maysles is well practiced in finding the connections between the
environmental art visualized by Christo and Jeanne-Claude and the people
who experience it.
"The Gates," his sixth project with the couple, is to be shown
on HBO in the fall. Tomorrow, the Museum of Modern Art will begin
screenings of "Christo and Jeanne-Claude: Projects Recorded,
1969-1998," which includes Mr. Maysles's films of the previous five
collaborations.
Mr. Maysles met Christo and Jeanne-Claude through a friend in Paris in
1960, and they became like family, Jeanne-Claude said, when the Christos
moved to New York in 1964. With his brother and co-filmmaker, David, Mr.
Maysles followed the couple as they strung a rippled sheet of orange
fabric between mountains in "Christo's
Valley Curtain" (1974), stretched an 18-foot wall of
white across Northern California in "Running
Fence" (1978), skirted Biscayne Bay islands in flamingo
pink in "Islands"
(1986) and wrapped the Pont Neuf in gold in "Christo
in Paris" (1990). He completed "Umbrellas"
(1995), about the simultaneous opening of 3,100 umbrellas in California
and Japan, without David, who died in 1987.
For now, all that exists of "The Gates" documentary is a
five-minute trailer and a mass of film taken across more than two
decades - and left to editors in Mr. Maysles's studio on West 54th
Street to make sense of.
"It's a talent I don't have," he said of the editing, noting
that a late-in-life diagnosis of attention deficit disorder had helped
him better understand what he had always viewed as his weaknesses.
"I haven't the eye."
But that disability has helped to nurture some strengths.
"I am a very, very good listener," he said. "My innate
difficulty with concentration forced me to be."
A pioneer in direct cinema, the American version of French cinéma vérité,
Mr. Maysles is an old-school documentarian, preferring to remain out of
frame and let life speak for itself.
"When you ask a question," he said, "you already know
what the answer will be."
And so he has sought out what he doesn't already know.
It was Mr. Maysles's team who filmed a man being stabbed to death during
a Rolling Stones concert at Altamont in the 1970 film "Gimme
Shelter," Mr. Maysles who ferreted out the aspirations and
disappointments of a reclusive mother and daughter in their decaying
house in East Hampton, on Long Island, in "Grey Gardens"
(1976). And it is Mr. Maysles whom the Christos have allowed to
accompany them from intimacy to intimacy for more than three decades,
from Christo's freak-out session as he watched their Colorado curtain
become snagged during its unfurling in 1972 to Jeanne-Claude's singing
"Oh, What a Beautiful Day," a bit off-key, in the back of a
taxi cab in 2003.
"We used to tease David and Al when we were younger because once I
remember they said, they want to be with us all the time,
everywhere," Jeanne-Claude said in a telephone interview from her
downtown loft last week. "But they have not yet caught us brushing
our teeth."
"It's not only about the films of Christo," she continued.
"You will see that in all of their film, David and Albert, always,
they just can't help it - no matter what is happening, they cannot help
but throw in a little a bit of tenderness."
David was mostly the sound, she recalled, and Albert the cameraman.
David's role on "The Gates" has fallen to Mr. Ferrera, a
35-year-old writer and filmmaker with a fondness for quoting Thomas
Hardy whose romantic vision seems to mesh with Mr. Maysles's own.
For "The Gates," the men have been camped out "like
nomads," Mr. Ferrera said, coming and going until late into the
night from their trailer next to the Central Park Boathouse, just across
the park from Mr. Maysles's apartment in the Dakota.
Inside, young assistants tap away on laptops and answer phones,
maintaining filming and interview schedules, keeping Mr. Maysles sated
with miniature chocolate bars and, given that it is in 50th year in
filmmaking, monitoring the recent run on lifetime achievement awards.
Mr. Ferrera, who met Mr. Maysles by timidly approaching him at a Film
Forum screening, has worked with him since 1999.
"The greatest thing I've learned from Al is the way that compassion
and openness are the only true things that will allow you to find the
fullness in that which is before you," he said.
"Al does that with his camera. He's like a heat-seeking missile.
It's not about shots or any of that stuff. It's about discovering what
happens in life through the lens."
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
Newsday: February 8, 2005
'The Gates' shall be unfurled
Artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude see their fleeting installation
finally come to fruition
BY ARIELLA BUDICK
STAFF WRITER
Why would any artist devote decades of planning and millions of dollars
to create a new project with the intention of destroying it a few weeks
later?
Christo and Jeanne-Claude, who long ago became famous for draping fabric
across buildings, canyons and entire counties, first proposed festooning
Central Park in 1979. Three mayors and countless hearings later, the
couple has spent $21 million on "The Gates," a 23-mile
procession of billowing, saffron-colored curtains that will be unfurled
Saturday and dismantled on Feb. 28.
Why it's transitory
"One of our workers on the night shift asked me why is it
temporary," Jeanne-Claude says. "I told him to think of the
rainbow. And he grabbed my arm and says, 'I think I got it: If the gates
were there all the time, after a while nobody would be looking at them
and the magic would be gone.' And I said, 'You've got it better than
most art historians.'"
Precisely because it is such a colossal undertaking, the transience of
"The Gates" is central to the project's meaning. Ours is an
era of great migrations, in which whole populations live with the
feeling that shelter is fragile and landscape can be suddenly reshaped.
The artists themselves are transplants to New York - he from Bulgaria,
she from France - and their work reflects the sense of impermanence.
"Nomads one day arrive and they unfold their fabric tent and they
build an entire town, and weeks later they fold up their tents and they
are gone, and this nomadic quality is reflected in the fabric,"
says Jeanne-Claude. Then, as if to offer assurance that "The
Gates" will be no didactic enterprise but a thing of visceral
beauty, she segues into a different metaphor. "Fabric is also
sensual, like a second skin," she says. "It moves in the wind.
It is alive."
The installation has an economic life, too. It has generated more than
1,000 temporary jobs. It will probably lure hundreds of thousands of
tourists who will buy meals and Broadway tickets. Sales of related
posters and merchandise will benefit the nonprofit organizations Nurture
New York's Nature and the Central Park Conservancy.
But nobody gets rich: The artists sell preparatory sketches, as well as
works they have been hoarding for decades, and that revenue covers the
expenses of this extravaganza or gets plowed into the next, a project
over the Arkansas River in Colorado. If the weather or some other glitch
drives up the cost by $1 million or $2 million of the artists' own
money, then so be it.
"Each work is like a child of ours," Jeanne-Claude shrugs.
"A father and a mother do not have a budget for a child."
Speaking as one
In the months leading up to opening day, the gangly Christo has been
cloistered in the studio above the couple's SoHo loft, churning out the
drawings and collages that will be the only permanent trace of "The
Gates" once the vinyl poles and the nylon material have been
recycled. He sleeps just a few hours a night, eats hurried meals of raw
garlic with yogurt, and gives no interviews.
His partner waves all such requests away, explaining that they have
fused into a single entity: Christo and Jeanne-Claude. "I live with
him for 47 years, and I know exactly what he would have said. We do
everything together - except we don't fly together, I do not draw and
Christo never works with our accountant."
Like most of the pair's other projects - wrapping the Reichstag in
Berlin and the Pont Neuf in Paris, spanning a valley in Colorado,
stretching a cloth fence across Sonoma and Marin counties in northern
California, dotting whole landscapes with thousands of bright umbrellas
- "The Gates" had to overcome a mountain range of logistical
barriers. The city equivocated and objected until their fan Michael
Bloomberg became mayor. Then it was just a matter of turning 5,290 tons
of steel into 15,000 supports capable of withstanding February bluster,
without damaging the Central Park turf or pathways.
The obstacles and the expense, while central to the process, have tended
to arouse hostility, which usually takes the form of accusations that
the artists are wasteful publicity-seekers. Christo and Jeanne-Claude
both deny and embrace those criticisms.
"If the project was a movie set for Hollywood ... there would be no
opposition," Christo told the art historian Jonathan Fineberg,
discussing a work that involved encircling 11 Miami islets in floating
fabric. "The great power of the project is that it's absolutely
irrational, and that disturbs, angers the sound human perception of a
capitalist society. That is also a part of the project ... to put in
doubt all the values of everything."
Will it work in New York?
According to John Elderfield, chief curator at the Museum of Modern Art,
such large, theatrical and subversive work belongs in a tradition of the
politically charged avant-garde of the Russian Revolution. It's hard to
know how well that social critique will translate to New York City.
"Public art thrives best in periods where there are widely
understood communal beliefs," Elderfield says. "How can this
work in a city where nobody agrees about anything? Therefore, there's
something wonderfully ingenuous about the wish to do it."
Fomenting doubt about social conventions is not the same as spreading
confusion, however. Perhaps because they have mystified so many people
over the course of their joint career, Christo and Jeanne-Claude insist
on fact-checking every article about themselves (including this one).
Their Web site (http://www.christojeanneclaude/
.net) features a list of common journalistic errors, such as the
recommendation: "See the artwork best by flying." The written
retort resonates with Jeanne-Claude's Gallic scorn: "No! None of
their work is designed for the birds, all have a scale to be enjoyed by
human beings who are on the ground."
Nothing annoys them more than to be described as "wrap
artists," since they also put fabric to many other uses. "When
people think that we wrap everything, it means that they don't have
eyes," Jeanne-Claude sputters. "It's close to cretinism."
As for the charge that they are merely chasing fame, Jeanne-Claude's
answer is that their desire for recognition is profoundly human and
inseparable from their desire to be good at their job. "If someone
is the best garbage collector in town, he is proud of being known as the
best garbage collector," she says. "Or butcher or baker."
Copyright © 2005, Newsday,
Inc.
Video:
The making of 'Gates' (NYNewsday.com) Feb 1, 2005
|
February 9, 2005
Barbarians (Well, Mostly Art Lovers) at 'The Gates'
By JENNIFER STEINHAUER
In 1991 David Yust clocked 22 hours staring at a forest of yellow
umbrellas in a valley north of Los Angeles. He spent 13 days in Berlin
in 1995 marveling at the aluminum-surfaced fabric that draped the
Reichstag, once rising at 2 a.m. for a reverential photo session of the
sun rising over the enfolded neo-Renaissance landmark. And next week he
plans to photograph a saffron-cloaked Central Park at dawn.
Mr. Yust, 65, is part of a far-flung group of followers of the artists
Christo and Jeanne-Claude, whose latest public art project, "The
Gates," is scheduled to open along 23 miles of the park's
pedestrian walkways on Saturday. These loyal fans plot distant
vacations, organize group trips and sometimes abandon jobs to bear
witness to the artists' installations.
They are like the fans that long traipsed after the Grateful Dead, but
with far fewer tour dates. They share the passion of people who collect
milk glass, Manolo Blahniks or rare teapots, although their holdings are
limited to books, pieces of fabric or, in the case of Caryl Unger, a
shovel that was used to install "Surrounded Islands" in
Biscayne Bay, off Miami.
Groupies? Gate-heads? They resist monikers. But their ardor for the
Christo and Jeanne-Claude happenings is passionate.
Mr. Yust, an art professor at Colorado State University in Fort Collins,
said he was first bitten by the Christo bug in 1983, when he signed on
to work on "Surrounded Islands," in which 11 Florida islands
were encircled by pink floating fabric, after hearing the artists speak
at the university. Since then he has tried to see as many of the
installations as he can.
"I thought about that project every day for the next two
years," said Mr. Yust, who, like many of those who travel the
country or world to see the team's work, is an artist himself. "I
thought he was a big nut at that time. And I still think he is a big
nut. But I am totally supportive of what he and Jeanne-Claude do. I feel
they are among the last of the true idealists on the planet."
From art collectors to museum groups, tourists to paid Christo
volunteers, the city expects 200,000 to flock to the city for the
installation, which will remain through Feb. 27. Such figures, of
course, are mere guesses for now. But there does seem to be universal
agreement that in a traditionally slow tourism period, New York will
draw record numbers of visitors, thanks to "The Gates."
Hotels that are usually half full or worse this time of year are
reporting strong bookings, especially at establishments that line the
park's perimeter. For the coming weekend, the Carlyle Hotel is 75
percent booked, a 30 percent increase over last year, said James
McBride, the hotel's managing director. The hotel is offering a
"Gates" package, which includes a park-view suite with
catering for two hours for 25 people, at $6,000. "We booked one of
them already," Mr. McBride said.
The Mark is sold out this weekend; last February, only half of the 176
rooms were booked, managers there said.
The artists estimate that thousands of people around the globe make a
point of traveling to see their work, often signing on to help install
the pieces. Smaller Christo communities hammer beams, tread water, twist
fabric, answer phones or perform myriad other tasks to help bring a work
together. There is even a blog on which visitors can record their
reactions: nycgates.blogspot.com.
Those fans, as well as thousands of other visitors who are landing in
New York over the next several days to behold the ornamented park, are
expected to lift the city's tourism economy, usually lackluster this
time of year.
"You don't go running up to New York in the middle of February from
Miami," said Mrs. Unger, who is flying in on Thursday from Miami to
see the installation. "But when I heard it was going to be in New
York, I said to my husband, 'Please, let's go.' "
New York merchants, of course, hope the experience will be as
remunerative as it is enriching. The Mandarin Oriental will offer a
package including binoculars in each of its Central Park View rooms, as
well as breakfast at Asiate and a Metropolitan Museum of Art book on the
project, starting at $1,050 a night. La Prima Donna Restaurant will
serve sautéed Prince Edward Island mussels, in a saffron cream sauce.
You get the idea.
For the record, the artists do not earn income from the detritus left
behind once a project is over. "The Gates" will be
industrially recycled, and proceeds from the sale of "Gates"
sweatshirts and other souvenirs will be donated to Nurture New York's
Nature and the Central Park Conservancy. The project, which will cost
more than $20 million to install, will be paid for by the artists.
Organized groups are coming from Japan, Germany and many American cities
to see the work, a great many of them made up of artists or art
collectors.
Ruth Halperin, chairwoman of Contemporary Collectors Circle of the
Cantor Arts Center at Stanford University, will fly in with 25 museum
members on her fourth Christo trip.
"We went to Fresno to see the umbrellas," said Ms. Halperin,
who is 77. "We went to Paris, and we saw "Running Fence,"
she said, referring to the draping of the Pont-Neuf in Champagne-colored
cloth in 1985 and a 24-mile nylon curtain that stretched through Sonoma
and Marin Counties in California in 1976. " 'Running Fence' - to me
that was the most beautiful one," she said. "The hills were
beautiful and soft, and the light as the wind blew was magic. I will
never forget that for the rest of my life."
About 100 hard-core fans live out their commitment by helping to
assemble the projects. Iris Sandkuhler, an artist from San Francisco,
has worked on seven Christo installations to date. "I did my first
one as a teenager, and now I am in my 40's," Ms. Sandkuhler said.
"In 1978, an art instructor in North Carolina piled us into a van
and said you have to do this," she said, describing her initiation,
a modest Christo project involving the wrapping of some streets in
Kansas City.
The commitment is not without its physical challenges. "Working in
water in the Biscayne Bay," she said, "we had to lace the
panels together, and there was nothing to stand on, so we were in the
water floundering around."
"But the hardest one for me," Ms. Sandkuhler mused, "was
when I worked for them in Paris, and I was sleeping on a couch in the
office right next to the bathroom."
Copyright
2005 The
New York Times Company
|
NEW YORK TIMES
http://www.nytimes.com/2002/12/19/nyregion/19PARK.html
December 19, 2002
Artist's Plan to Drape Central Park in Fabric Is Approved
By ROBIN POGREBIN
A scaled-down version of a plan by the artist Christo to festoon 26
miles of Central Park's walkways with swatches of translucent
saffron-colored fabric has been given a crucial vote of support by the
Central Park Conservancy, which helps manage the park.
The project, which would be installed in February and remain in place
for two weeks, still awaits approval by the city's parks department, but
the vote on Monday by the Conservancy's board is significant. Mayor
Michael R. Bloomberg, too, has said he supports the project, making
approval by the parks department likelier.
The project was rejected in 1981 in the wake of vehement opposition to
what was seen by critics as a gross intrusion into the city's most
beloved and important green space.
This time, a "policy statement" approved by a majority of the
park conservancy's board concluded that the project "could move
forward without damage to the park and without impeding the recreational
use of the park by the public," provided that issues including
financing and security were resolved.
Evelyn H. Lauder, who serves on the conservancy committee that studied
the project, said: "My position has always been caution in terms of
ecological impact. All those problems have been answered by them. So I'm
very happy because I think it is a very exciting and dynamic
possibility."
In a much-chronicled career, the Bulgarian-born artist and his wife,
Jeanne-Claude, have wrapped the German Reichstag and the Pont Neuf in
Paris in cloth. They surrounded part of the coast of Australia in
sand-colored fabric, hung an orange curtain across a gap in the Grand
Hogback Mountain Range in Colorado and dispersed several thousand
umbrellas across southern California.
The Central Park project would include a trail of thousands of
rectangular steel gates, each 15 feet tall, supporting individual panels
of billowing cloth that would outline the park's winding promenades. The
gates would begin at the park's pedestrian entrances and continue at
nine-foot intervals.
Among the Central Park Conservancy board members to vote in favor this
time was Gordon J. Davis, who as parks commissioner 21 years ago
rejected the project in a 107-page document that concluded the project
was "in the wrong place at the wrong time and in the wrong
scale."
Among those to vote against the project on Monday was Richard Gilder, an
investment manager who pledged a $17 million challenge grant to
refurbish the Great Lawn and is a conservancy founding trustee.
The conservancy's approval came with the condition that the work, known
as "the Gates project," undergo significant modification:
construction and installation with no excavation; fewer than 7,500 gates
rather than the 15,000 originally proposed; no interference with trees
or sensitive park areas like the reservoir and Ramble; and minimal use
of large trucks and forklifts. The board also stipulated that the
February installation date replace the original October proposal.
The conservancy still wants more information on such issues as the
project's financing, the impact on wildlife, and what will be done to
keep parkgoers off grassy areas where bulbs are growing.
The project has been given new life in part because of support from the
mayor, who has generally championed the importance of public art,
particularly since the events of Sept. 11. Deputy Mayor Patricia E.
Harris said it was premature to comment on the development.
Christo collaborates on his creations with his wife, and they finance
their projects themselves from sales of Christo's work. Reached
yesterday by phone at home in Manhattan, Jeanne-Claude said she was
unaware of the conservancy's support. "We don't even know
that," she said.
To the artists, the process of seeking approval is part of the art
itself. "The negotiation is part of the artistic focus," Mrs.
Lauder of the conservancy said. "To eliminate obstacles is part of
what they perceive as their process."
|
December 24, 2002
The Fabric of Life in the Park Christo Plan Advances
By MICHAEL KIMMELMAN
The artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude came up with a plan 23 years ago to
erect gates draped in saffron-colored fabric in Central Park. Thousands of
them would meander along pathways for two weeks during the winter when the
trees are bare so the gates could be seen. Then they would be removed. A
simple, slightly mad idea, and beautiful.
Since then this husband-and-wife team has wrapped buildings, surrounded
islands with pink floating fabric, installed giant blue and yellow
umbrellas, and strung miles of curtains at locales from Florida to
California to Japan to Europe, turning doubters into converts, while New
York City, art's supposed capital, has dragged its heels.
Until now. Maybe.
Last week the Central Park Conservancy passed a resolution giving its
support, basically. Christo and Jeanne-Claude said yesterday that they
still had not heard from the conservancy, a private organization, which
donates millions to maintain the park.
Meanwhile it turns out that the artists have been negotiating a contract
with the Parks Department. They are reluctant to talk about it. They don't
want anything to spoil progress, having got so close to approval after so
many years. Yesterday they told me that an announcement by the city may
come very soon. Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg has already said he likes the
idea.
Charlatans? Shamans? With their hard-sell tactics, their followers
trailing them like Deadheads from one gig to the next, their feel-good
populism and phenomenally expensive, grandiose ambitions, it's no wonder
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have made skeptics of people who haven't seen
their work, don't understand it or don't want to, and who won't take them
seriously.
I remember going to the "Wrapped Reichstag" in 1995, expecting
the worst. Then, like so many people, I was won over by the whole giddy
event: the revelers who turned the fields around the Reichstag into
Woodstock East, the art students sketching the building, the street
vendors, the grumpy politicians, the store windows full of wrapped objects
— above all by the beauty of the project.
Briefly the hulking building became a kind of shimmery gift to the city,
swathed in a million square feet of silvery polypropylene fabric held in
place by 10 miles of bright blue rope. When the last roll of fabric was
unfurled by a crew of climbers resembling Lilliputians atop Gulliver,
someone cranked up a hurdy-gurdy. The crowd applauded.
Then the building was unwrapped a few weeks later, leaving nothing behind
except the economic benefits of tourist dollars: Christo and Jeanne-Claude
always pay for their own projects by selling his art. The Reichstag
wrapping cost $13 million.
Berlin, a German newspaper said, made about $700 million in increased
tourism. The artists also bequeathed to the city the worldwide afterimage
of a gentler Reichstag. The symbolism was a new Germany emerging from the
chrysalis of the wrapped building.
They came up with the Reichstag idea in 1971. Resistance and negotiation
are part of their work: everything that happens from concept to completion
belongs to the project, they say; this is a basic tenet of Conceptual Art.
They have been pondering something big in New York since the mid-60's,
shortly after immigrating from Paris. First Christo proposed wrapping two
downtown buildings, then wrapping the Museum of Modern Art, One Times
Square and the Whitney Museum.
By the 70's they imagined the gates to celebrate the rambling, organic
system of pathways through Central Park, in contrast to the grid of
streets. This interaction between order and disorder encapsulated art at
that moment. The rectangular shape of the gates combined with the
windblown fabric made a classic Post-Minimalist statement about man-made
systems and nature.
The project was turned down in 1981, when the Parks Department feared it
would damage the grounds and set a dangerous precedent. Gordon J. Davis,
then the parks commissioner, produced a report arguing against it.
Mr. Davis is now a conservancy board member, and he voted for it this
time. In 1995 Disney showed "Pocahontas" in the park on four
80-foot-high screens to tens of thousands of people crammed onto 120,000
square feet of artificial turf under 56,000 watts of light, listening to a
400,000-watt sound system before a gigantic inflatable Mickey.
So much for dangerous precedent. If the legacy of Frederick Law Olmsted
and Calvert Vaux, the park's legendary designers, could survive that,
what's the problem with the gates?
Anodyne, critics say about Christo. But public art does not consist only
of artists leaving black boxes with "Fear" on them in subway
stations. There's a fruitful territory between yelling "Fire!"
in a crowded theater and erecting a statue of a forgotten hero holding a
sword. Christo's work derives from 60's happenings and Earth Art, from the
general move out of galleries and museums into the real world, and from
the utopianism of Socialist Realism (he was born in Bulgaria in 1935),
with its belief in art for everyman, agitprop and the gigantism of Soviet
monuments. He has transformed all this into a transient brand of visual
entertainment.
A little of that wouldn't hurt New York City now. After 9/11 the project
can show the world the city's creative vitality, emotional health and
sense of humor, and be a complement to the proposals for downtown.
It would require at least another year, and probably a few years, for the
project to be realized even if a contract were signed today and no legal
hitches occurred. (They better act while this mayor is still in office.)
Besides the money to be raised (Jeanne-Claude mentioned to me $20 million
as a possible amount), there are 74 tons of steel to be designed, around a
million square feet of fabric to be woven, cut and sewn, and workers to be
hired and trained. And more planning. Last June, with Douglas Blonsky, the
Central Park administrator, Christo and Jeanne-Claude surveyed the park,
recording the precise width of walkways and heights of the lowest
branches.
The present plan is for about 7,400 gates, each 16 feet high (a foot
higher than they originally proposed), with an average of 12 feet between
gates. (There will be some gaps to avoid branches and other obstacles.)
The widths of the gates will vary from 6 feet to 18 feet, to match the
widths of walkways. Instead of slender steel poles, as first proposed, the
gates are now to be 5 inch by 5 inch fabricated recyclable vinyl poles
extruded in the saffron color of the fabric, which is no longer attached
like a shower curtain but built right into the frame, like sails into
masts.
Each gate will have a slender one-ton steel base. The gates will rest only
on walkways, so no holes with be dug or grass disturbed. Teams hired by
the artists will take about six weeks, using small forklifts, to install
the bases, another week to raise the gates. The park will be open as
usual. Then the fabric will be unfurled in a day, ceremoniously.
The teams will maintain and guard the gates, hand out fabric samples as
gifts, act as docents to the curious, then take the gates down after two
weeks. Six weeks later everything should be gone.
At Christo's and Jeanne-Claude's studio I watched a short video of models
of the gates, tested in Washington State, where the artists' chief
engineer, Vince Davenport, lives. A van drove through the gates to make
sure emergency vehicles wouldn't be obstructed. The fabric (it doesn't
hang lower than seven feet) billowed nicely in a breeze. Christo pulled
out some drawings and a book about the project. The gates are shown to
fill the park, drawing orange paths up and down hills and stairs, around
the lake, zoo and Met Museum — a vast, whimsical abstraction in the
land.
To the city, as "Wrapped Reichstag" was to Berlin, "The
Gates" could be more than a popular attraction and profitable. Art,
even a temporary installation, maybe especially a temporary installation,
when it is good has a way of leaving an indelible mark on a place and the
people who see it. Its value is civic and psychological. As a successor to
the image of the collapsing Twin Towers, the picture of a winter park
filled with people streaming through gates of fabric could be priceless.
At the least, it would show New York City was willing to take a gamble on
art.
Here's hoping a contract is signed. Then it will be up to private donors
to decide whether the project is worth the cost. Museums pay millions for
some exhibitions. Knicks players are paid millions and lose. Who's to say
what's too much? Considering how much money street vendors make hawking
postcards and geegaws of the World Trade Center these days, it shouldn't
be too hard for Christo to sell images of his project to raise cash.
Meanwhile temporary public sculptures, as part of the last Whitney
Biennial, have proved that Central Park can accommodate art and survive.
The park is gorgeous without gates. It might be gorgeous with them, too.
There's only one way to find out.
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April 9, 2004
ART REVIEW | 'THE GATES, CENTRAL PARK'
Christo's Feat: 25 Years' Work for 16 Days
By GRACE GLUECK

A collage depicting part of Christo's plan to bring saffron to Central
Park next February, the culmination of a quarter century of effort.
You might think that after more than 40 years of grand-scale achievements,
like hanging a curtain between two peaks in a Colorado valley; running
miles of fence through two California counties; outfitting several islands
off Florida with tutus; wrapping the Pont Neuf in Paris; and swaddling the
Reichstag in Berlin, the indefatigable team of Christo and his
wife-collaborator, Jeanne-Claude, would at last run out of ambition.
But no. With their eyes ever on the Big Apple, the two had long plotted a
Christofest in Central Park. And after two and a half decades of refining
the work and banging on official doors for a hearing, they are about —
thanks to Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg's approval — to achieve their goal,
with a project called "The Gates." It is logistically one of the
team's most complicated to date, and certainly, at 25 years, the longest
in gestation.
Weather permitting, Saturday, Feb. 12, 2005, will see the formal opening
in Central Park of the team's 16-day installation of 7,500 saffron-colored
fabric panels, each suspended within a free-standing framework 16 feet
high and swinging at the whim of the wind. Placed at 12-foot intervals and
well over a stroller's head, the panels will occupy 23 miles of park
walkways. The installation is meant not only to salute the park's
half-planned, half-natural topography, but to evoke the grid structure of
the surrounding city blocks. The saffron color recalls the park in fall
foliage, a particularly expressive device when set against a mélange of
February-bare trees. A preview of what's to come has been mounted by the
Metropolitan Museum: "Christo and Jeanne-Claude: The Gates, Central
Park, New York," a show of 51 preparatory drawings and collages by
Christo, 64 photographs, 11 maps and tech-y diagrams, along with actual
samples of the steel posts, fittings, footings and such that will support
the banners along the walkways without making holes in them. (The title,
"The Gates," is taken from the name used by the park's
architects, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux, for the openings in
the stone wall surrounding it.)
Christo's feat is hailed as "a tribute to the grandeur of Central
Park and New York City" by Philippe de Montebello, director of the
Met (which will itself be in direct line of the enfilade). But the
installation is also a testimony to the team's inexhaustible skill and
patience in the manipulation of officialdom, the imposition of an artist's
will on a very public domain. Does Central Park really need Christo's
embellishment?
With Christo and Jeanne-Claude, the conceptual process — the technical
problems, the political arm-twisting, the fund-raising, the public
relations-maneuvering and the documentation relating to their projects
and, of course, the power play involved in achieving them — is as much a
part of their art as the visible, sometimes beautiful but always
temporary, end product.
Like everything else the team does, the chronological documentation of the
forthcoming event on view at the Met is as yawningly thoroughgoing as,
say, a space exploration log, sparing the viewer no detail. Christo's
drawings and collages show the installation from every vantage point,
close-up to panoramic. Some are small and humdrum, others elaborate and
impressive, like an eight-foot-long collage dated 2003, depicting the
banners close up and receding on their long march, with buildings in the
background. This work is topped by an aerial photograph of Central Park
and a sketch of some technical details with an actual snippet of fabric.
The photographs, mostly by Wolfgang Volz, exclusive photographer for
Christo's projects since 1972, range from the first meeting between
Christo and Jeanne-Claude and their lawyer, Theodore W. Kheel, with Gordon
J. Davis, then the New York City parks commissioner, in April 1980 (a
poignant note here is the visible advance in age of the participants as
the years roll by), to a meeting of Community Board 8 in March 2003, at
which the artist's contract with the city is explained by Jack T. Linn, an
assistant commissioner of parks and recreation.
Slightly less repetitive are color shots of the various manufacturing
processes: the making of steel plates (5,290 tons of them) for the base
weights at the ISG steel mill in Coatesville, Pa.; the weaving of more
than 119,556 miles of saffron-colored nylon thread into 1,006,620 square
feet of recyclable nylon fabric at the J. Schilgen Company in Emsdetten,
Germany; the manufacture of the vinyl poles that hold the panels at the
North American Profiles Group plant in Holmes, N.Y. (No one can say the
Christo team doesn't do its bit toward fuller employment.)
And then there are samples of the tangible results of all this busyness:
solid steel bases each weighing between 614 and 815 pounds; steel leveling
plates to ensure the verticality of the poles; the vinyl poles themselves;
the fabric panels (each rolled around a cardboard tube three inches in
diameter in preparation for unfurling); bolts and self-locking nuts that
will total 165,704.
Whew! These dumbfounding statistics make it clear why the cost of this
enterprise is estimated to approach $20 million (including a $3 million
donation by Christo to the Central Park Conservancy). The artist has
always said he supports his enterprises through the sale of drawings and
models, with no government funds involved. And as for the materials
themselves, Christo says they are all subject to recycling.
But what about the end product of all this? In all fairness, that can't be
weighed until the actual installation is in place. Supposedly that
installation will result in no damage to the park.
Yet there's no denying that Christo's work has in the past achieved some
beautiful effects. I will always remember the magical sight in 1972 of the
orange Valley Curtain suspended between two hills against a background of
grayish peaks in Rifle, Colo., lasting for nearly a day before the wind
destroyed it.
Nor will I forget the stunning view, from a helicopter, of the bright pink
skirts inflecting the tiny green bits of land they billowed out from in
the "Surrounded Islands" project of 1983 in Miami's Biscayne
Bay. Neither of these, nor any of Christo's other projects, as far as I
know, was destined to be permanent. The successful struggle to realize
them, and then to document their existence, seemed to satisfy the artist.
Paradoxically, it's the ephemerality of his ambitious projects that give
them their true strength. Operating on a grand scale, boldly moving in on
nature or man-made architectural schemes, he has the chutzpah to work his
way with them, then walk away, leaving echoes in living minds and
documents for the archives. It's not a bad way of imposing art on us;
after all, look at the ugly public statues that now pepper the park.
Unlike Christo's work, they aren't temporary.
"Christo and Jeanne-Claude: The Gates, Central Park, New York"
is on view at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Fifth Avenue at 82nd Street,
(212) 535-7710, through July 25.
Copyright 2004 The New York Times Company
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contact
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nyc-architecture.com
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links
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http://www.christojeanneclaude.net/liveGates.html
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