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Thread: Christo: The Gates, Central Park

  1. #61
    Forum Veteran
    Join Date
    Jan 2003
    Garden City, LI


    Aside from the hype...extremely impressive and beautiful. Great project and what an event for the city. I would love to see events like this all the time, or at least in slow monthes like Feb.


  2. #62


    Alberto Arroyo, the Mayor of Central Park, at The Reservoir.

    I stopped by The Reservoir yesterday, and spoke to Alberto, properly attired for The Gates. It was no special occasion to find the Mayor of Central Park at the track - he began running there 70 years ago - but it was also his 89th birthday.

    During our conversation, there was an endless stream of "Hi Alberto" from runners of all ages, and visitors from the UK and Germany stopped to say hello.

    Alberto walks with a cane and a limp now, but still manages to get around the familiar track. If you'd like to meet him, the best place is the South Gate House on a nice day. He is not reluctant to talk about himself, or his park.

  3. #63


    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

  4. #64


    Thats a shame, what kind of ignorant fools would want to deface art?

  5. #65


    February 17, 2005

    Young Critics See 'The Gates' and Offer Their Reviews: Mixed


    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

  6. #66


    February 17, 2005

    In City of Ads, 'The Gates' Stand Apart


    OT 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

  7. #67


    February 17, 2005


    How Banners Navigated the Hurdles


    OR 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

  8. #68

  9. #69


    You to could have a little Christo and Jeanne Claude

    in your home.

  10. #70


    Christo and Jeanne-Claude being filmed and interviewed. 19 February 2005.

  11. #71


    New York Times

    February 20, 2005
    Seeing Orange

    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.

    Although The Gates are a nice distraction from the bitter Winter weather and leafless tree landscape, I agree with this op-ed.

  12. #72

    Default 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.

  13. #73

    by Peter Schjeldahl
    Issue of 2005-02-28
    Posted 2005-02-21

    An art critic was testily perambulating “The Gates,” in Central Park, with his wife and a friend from Texas on the first Sunday afternoon of its installation when he suddenly got a load of their thousands of fellow-walkers and registered the common mood—a sort of vast, blanketing, almost drowsy contentment. He couldn’t think of any other occasion on which he had witnessed so many New Yorkers moving slowly when they didn’t have to. Each person looked strangely, nakedly personal: not a New Yorker at all, or anything else in particular. The crowd’s many-voiced sound had an indoor intimacy, like the bright murmur in a theatre, during intermission, when the play is good and everybody knows that everybody knows it. The over-all social effect, which was somewhat like that of an electrical blackout or a major blizzard, minus the inconvenience, was weird and terrific. (You could give yourself a nice scare imagining “The Gates” magically removed, and leaving the people looking as they looked—a goofball “Night of the Living Dead.”) The voluble disaffection of the art critic, me, collapsed, to the relief of my companions. I had to admit the reason for it, which was that “The Gates” is a populist affront to the authority of art critics, and to accept being just another shuffling, jostling, helplessly chummy citizen.

    Of course, “The Gates” is art, because what else would it be? Art used to mean paintings and statues. Now it means practically anything human-made that is unclassifiable otherwise. This loss of a commonsense definition is a big art-critical problem, but not in Central Park, not this week. What the artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude have been doing for three and a half decades is self-evident. They propose a grandiose, entirely pointless alteration of a public place, then advance their plan in the face of a predictable public and bureaucratic resistance, which gradually comes to seem mean-spirited and foolish for want of a reasonable argument against them. They build a constituency of supporters, including collectors who help finance the project by buying Christo’s drawings and collages of it. What then occurs is like an annual festival—Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, a high-school prom—without the parts about its being annual or a festival. It feels vaguely religious. The zealous installers and minders, identifiable on site by their uniforms and chatty pride, are like acolytes. As with any ritual—though “The Gates” can’t be a ritual, because it is performed just once—how people behave during the installation is what it is for and about. Then it’s gone, before it has a chance to become boring or, for that matter, interesting.

    Those who deplore “The Gates” as ugly aren’t wrong, just poor sports. The work’s charm-free, synthetic orange hue—saffron? no way—is something you would wear only in the woods during deer season, in order to avoid being shot. The nylon fabric is sullen to the touch. The proportions of the arches are graceless, and dogs alone esteem the clunky bases. As for the sometimes heard praise of the work for framing and, in the process, revealing unsuspected lovelinesses of the Park—C’mon, people! You don’t need artificial aids to notice things. “The Gates” does trigger beauty when, as on the aforementioned Sunday afternoon, a low sun backlights the fluttering fabric, which combusts like stained glass in a molten state. This effect lasts all of about two seconds—the time span suggested in the observation of the art historian Kenneth Clark that we can enjoy a purely aesthetic sensation for only as long as we can keenly savor the smell of a fresh-cut orange. (Yes, he said an orange.) “The Gates” succeeds precisely by being, on the whole, a big nothing. Comprehended at a glance, it lets us get right down to being crazy about ourselves, in a bubble of participatory narcissism that it will be pitiable to have missed.

  14. #74

  15. #75


    Christo's Gates and the Gapstow Bridge. 21 February 2005.

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