Christo and Jeanne-Claude
the gates 1979–2005
12 – 28 February
www.christojeanneclaude.net
On a blustery 12 February, I and thousands of
others witnessed a remarkably intimate yet monumental birthing ceremony in
New York’s Central Park. The Gates did not come to life with one dramatic
swoop, but rather with hundreds of simultaneous unfoldings. Teams of
installers reached up with long hooks to open 7,500 cocoons of saffron
fabric, one by one. Like the wings of great butterflies, the skirted gates
began to flutter in the wintry breeze playing through the grey park that
day. And we were there – followers from all over the planet – intent on
communing with the latest temporal extravagance of Christo and
Jeanne-Claude.
The first drawing of the proposal in 1979 was The Thousand Gates, a design
that called for 12-foot tall gates with fabric hooked to an upper cable as
elegantly as a shower curtain, not the commanding 16-foot tall archways that
rose to the sky in 2005. The skinny round poles of the artists’ initial idea
swelled to 5 x 5 inch square vinyl sculptural poles. For 16 days this
February (the only month of the year when there are no buds or leaves on the
trees), over one hundred thousand miles of brilliant orange cloth swayed
above 23 miles of walkways in Central Park.
Behind the glowing saffron of The Gates are two soul mates that came to
Earth on the same day in 1937. And there’s a deep commitment to creating
‘works of art for joy and beauty, for us and for our friends,’ says
French-born Jeanne-Claude. For her, and for Christo, who was born in
Bulgaria and escaped from Prague to the West in 1957, that desire has
translated into a series of public negotiations and engaged an entire world
in the process.
The New York-based artists are adamant about working in ‘total freedom,
doing what we want where we want it how we want it, but not always when we
want it,’ admits Jeanne-Claude. Their declaration of independence means they
accept no sponsors and pay for all the expenses themselves (The Gates cost
$21 million). The financial aspect is a nightmare, she says, ‘but one day
you wake up, and the nightmare is gone’. ‘We are not rich people,’ she
insists. ‘Every project costs us the same thing each time, which means
everything we have plus everything we were able to borrow from the bank. And
we have been living on the fourth and fifth floor, no elevator, in the same
address for 41 years.’
The couple has brought to life 19 of the 56 ethereal projects they’ve
imagined making since the early 1960s. Most of the world took note of the
Wrapped Reichstag (1995), The Umbrellas (1991), The Pont Neuf Wrapped (1985)
and Surrounded Islands (1983). But don’t ask the artists to choose their
favourite. ‘We’re very much like a father and mother who have many children.
We love totally each one for its own different quality,’ says Jeanne-Claude.
The Gates was not such an easy baby. Since 1961, in Paris, the artists had
been trying to create a work of art that would be the wrapping of a public
building. Arriving in New York in 1964, they were fascinated with the
skyline of Manhattan and the tall buildings, the likes of which they’d never
seen in Europe. So they ventured to see the owner of 20 Exchange Place, then
the owner of #2 Broadway, to show drawings, collages and photomontages, but
the proposal was rejected. Undaunted, they proposed the Allied Chemical
Tower on 42nd St near Times Square, again unsuccessfully. They even tried to
wrap the Museum of Modern Art and the Whitney Museum, but to no avail.
So why Central Park? ‘Because we worked far away from New York City in
Australia, in 1969, to do Wrapped Coast, in 1972 to do the Colorado Valley
Curtain, and in northern California for Running Fence in 1976. In looking
back to New York, we realised our interest toward buildings had switched to
an interest in the people of New York … a place where hundreds of thousands
of people walk everyday,’ recalls Jeanne-Claude. The couple chose a site at
the heart of the city where people take time to walk at their leisure, the
same park where Jeanne-Claude had taken their son Cyril to climb on rocks
when he was a child.
At the time Christo and Jeanne-Claude first proposed a project for the
Olmstead-designed landscape, the park was in dismal condition and they were
denied permission. The most difficult aspect of all their projects is
getting the permit. After that, the engineering is quite simple – no
electronics, no technology, just simple technique. ‘Until three years ago,
we were telling everyone that the next project we complete will be Over the
River [a plan to suspend shimmering fabric above the Arkansas River in
Colorado],’ remembers Jeanne-Claude. ‘Then the miracle happened, a friend
and fan of the project was elected Mayor of New York City.’ Twenty years
after Jacques Chirac, the erstwhile Mayor of Paris, unlocked the door to the
Pont Neuf project, Michael Bloomberg offered the artists a 43-page contract.
New York’s Mayor was there on the opening day to release the fabric from the
first gate unveiled in the park’s Sheep Meadow.
Though he must have a million miles of fabric behind him, it still seems
worth asking Christo why he started wrapping objects in the first place. The
idea was not Duchampian, as some might think. Christo instead refers to
Rodin who, in creating a statue of Balzac (1891) sculpted him naked, with
‘skinny legs, big belly and many details … Not satisfied, he took a cape and
dipped it in liquid plaster and shrouded the sculpture of Balzac. With that
fabric, Rodin removed all the details and left only the essence.’
For the past 5,000 years, artists have been fascinated with fabric,
continues Jeanne-Claude. ‘Fabric, for us, has many qualities. First, it
moves in the wind. It is like a second skin, very sensual. And fabric
translates the temporary character of our work. You know that when nomadic
tribes arrive in a plain they unfold their fabric tents and suddenly there
is an entire little town. Then, after a few weeks, they fold their tents and
they are gone.’
Cathy Byrd