My Take on the Gates (Take 1)

My Take on “The Gates”


Growing up in Boston I developed a love affair, and romantic notions, about places with large trees, grassy knolls, squirrels, pigeons, swans, and paddle boats, a Frog Pond that humans swim in and a public garden that has a bridge where meant to be lovers could accidentally meet, all this not far from tall buildings and a river where sailboats race and rowboats float. These pictures came from the Boston Common where I can sit on a shady bench and imagine cows grazing still, and the Boston Public Garden where women and men walk with umbrellas and secretly smoke, and children long to pick flowers even though they are told ‘no.’ But having all these notions, doesn’t blind me to the historical reality that these places were planned and with a great purpose. And through them I discovered Frederick Olmstead, the architect, and I’ve often though, “Humm, what a man!” And of course learning about him, I also learned about Central Park in New York City, the home of those damn Yankees, but I can't help it, I love it there.

This park beloved by so many, why me, why the thunder and the beat, why be one of the many, instead of one of the few? Maybe it is because Central Park seems undiscoverable, there is always more there to see, to walk, to ponder on, then I have made it through. Someday perhaps my infatuation will dissolve into a more realistic view, but for now, it remains a place where my imagination finds no flaws, only love and landscape, beauty and road.

And those roads lead me to “The Gates” The Christos and Jean Claude exhibit that took place in Central Park just last month (February 2005) for only a two weeks.

Last summer, when I visited the park, the Dairy all ready had merchandise for sale. Drawings of what “The Gates” would look like, documentations of the ‘plan.’ I bought nothing, but mused about the idea, wondering would it really be like the drawings, large scale, romantic, bright orange sheets flowing from rectangle arches erected in the park to create a form of tunnel? Is that what it would be like? The park can be dark, ominous in the winter, except when it snows. I thought about it, let the pictures float in my mind, and then they passed until the news media, and the Executive Director of my community center remarked to me, “My sister in law is working on that.”

I thought, “What would her experience be?” And then later on, “What would my experience be?” I asked around, “Who will come with me?” I felt like the Little Red Hen, not me, not me --- me--- but only if you, arghhh!

Through diligence and with delight two co-workers said they would take the jaunt to Manhattan and visit “The Gates.” So we took the bus out of South Station for an over night stay.

We reached Harlem by 10:30, the edge of Central Park and I took out my camera and took a shot, the first sight of the orange, the saffron as it is called, my heart and eyes leapt through the dark light, the camera snapped as the bus rolled on down the avenue.


How strange the photo is. Is it bad film, bad light, is it a reflection, is it a spirit? I caught the flaccid and the blown, but it is dark and hard to read with shadow. However, this the first picture gives me something I felt missing during my visit. The gift of the spiritual a feeling of the unknown.