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| Christo at the Gates | |||||||
| Will an artist achieve his goal of draping Central Park in colorful fabric? Our intrepid columnist is on the trail | |||||||
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| March 18 — As a “member of the press,” I receive a lot of mail from public relations people trying to get me to write stories about their clients. Most of these press releases get recycled faster than I can say, “Honey, did you know that Red Lobster is ‘Serving up a Fresh New Look and Menu’”? (OK, there’s your plug. Thanks for the gift certificates.) But a while back, I received a press release that I just could not discard. |
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| “SEHR GEHERTE DAMEN und Herren,” it read. “Am 7 und 8 September werden zwei Ausstellungen von Christo und Jeanne-Claude in Berlin eroffnet (s. Einladungen und Flyers)...Wir laden Sie zu diesem Pressegesprach.” I must admit, I was intrigued. What could it mean? It sounded tantalizingly like I was being invited to a Philadelphia hockey game with Matt Damon. | |||||||||
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Much to Damon’s chagrin, it turns out that the press release was announcing a Berlin gallery’s retrospective on the work of Christo and Jeanne-Claude, the artists best known for wrapping, surrounding, enveloping or otherwise concealing very large buildings, islands and bridges in colorful fabric. They’re the couple who wrapped the German Reichstag in silver lamé a few years back and surrounded 11 islands near Miami in hot pink petticoats. As someone obsessed with Christo’s work (more on that later), I knew I had to accept that gracious invitation. I immediately called my editor, who just as immediately rejected my request for round-trip airfare, meal money and hotel accommodations in Berlin. (Cheapskate! Bean-counter! Art-hater!) While I missed that September 7 press preview, I quickly found other things to write about. But I never forgot about Christo. Though Bulgarian by birth, Christo exerts a strong gravitational pull on the imaginations of all New Yorkers. Since 1979, he has been trying—with as much success as a dyslexic at a spelling bee—to complete something he calls “The Gates,” which is comprised of 11,000, fabric-bearing metal frames that would be installed during winter along 26 miles of meandering walkways in Central Park. From above, the draped gates would resemble a ribbon of color throughout the drab park. From below, a pulsating roof of gold. But screw the artistic intent: We’re talking about an instant tourist attraction to fill our fair city’s depleted coffers! And, yes, it would look great. “Our work is like a nomadic tribe,” Christo said once, indulging that impulse that artists have to use words that, ultimately, have no meaning. “It is made out of fabric that moves with the wind, like a living thing, eh? That creates an urgency to see it.” Urgency or not, three New York City Parks Commissioners blocked the plan, with the last one, Henry Stern, telling me, “I have only three problems with his proposal: location, location, location. We’ve tried to explain it nicely, because, you know, you don’t want to get into an argument with a famous artist, but it’s a ridiculous idea that is an affront to the beautiful work of art that is Central Park.” But there’s a new sheriff in town—Mayor Mike Bloomberg— and he has gone on record saying that he’s open to the idea. I knew the time had come for me to get in touch with Christo. Full disclosure? I became obsessed by Christo years ago when I was doing a story about an artist who wanted to festoon the 26-mile edge of Manhattan Island with a colorful ribbon. Since the idea was so clearly inspired by Christo, I figured I should get a comment from the one-named artiste. I called his apartment and his Euro-assistant told me that Christo was in, but he could not come to the phone. Why not? “Christo does not talk on ze phone,” I was told. So I headed downtown, figuring he’d talk to me in person. “Christo does not talk on ze intercom,” I was told when I buzzed up. The assistant suggested that I call back and ask for his partner-in-sublime, Jeanne-Claude. I called from the pay phone on the corner and asked Jeanne-Claude if I could speak to Christo? “Christo does not talk on ze phone,” she said. I told her that I had already established that, but perhaps I could come upstairs and talk to him about his art. “You mean the art of Christo and Jeanne-Claude!” she said, offended in that insouciant French way that fills a man’s heart with the fiery passions so movingly depicted in the films of Joe Eszterhas. She then explained that “Christo and I work 17 hours a day, seven days a week,” and therefore had no time to comment on another artist’s work. | ||||||||
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Three years passed and we really didn’t keep in touch. But suddenly, since Bloomberg’s election, public art in supposedly sacred Central Park has been springing up like a Pomeranian on a pogo stick. Suddenly, people were raising the possibility that “The Gates” would be built sooner rather than never. I called Christo again and was told that his personal ban on modern telecommunications was still in place. And the usually loquacious Jeanne-Claude went mum, not wanting to jinx anything with her “friend” Bloomberg. But I was on this story like a maggot on roadkill, so I stalked Christo and Jeanne-Claude to a book-signing at a Barnes & Noble. I knew these were very important artists because this reading had the lowest homeless-to-book-buyer ratio I’ve ever seen at a Barnes & Noble event. Having never met Christo, I was amazed to discover that he’s a jovial guy—not the reclusive, phone-shunning eccentric that I expected. Actually, with his rugged European looks, he resembles a French prime minister, you know, the legendary kind who could balance his nation’s budgets as effortlessly as balancing a wife, a mistress and a six-pack-a-day habit. After some witty banter, with the flame-haired Jeanne-Claude playing Lucille Ball to Christo’s Ricky, the couple opened the floor to questions—and everyone wanted to hear about “The Gates.” Christo perked up like a guy on a bad date who is finally asked, “So, tell me about you.” He started with a story about his initial plans for wrapping a New York skyscraper back in 1964. “We negotiated,” he said, “but after two weeks, the owners thought we were lunatics.” After failing to get permission to wrap a different tower, Christo and Jeanne-Claude set their sights on that most important of New York institutions: the sidewalk. “We wanted to cover the sidewalk, but we knew we’d never get permission,” he said. “With our work, getting permits and approvals are the most time-consuming part.” (Sometimes he sounds more like a real estate developer than an artist.) So Christo and Jeanne-Claude focused on Central Park with a project that is designed to— I’m not paraphrasing here—”energize the space from the top of a person’s head to the bottom of the tree branches.” No wonder he doesn’t talk on ze phone. It’s hard to even understand him in person. Gersh Kuntzman is also a columnist for The New York Post. His Web site is at http://www.gersh.tv © 2002 Newsweek, Inc. | ||||||||
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