Monday, February 21, 2005


The whole of New York seems taken by the craze of saffron in Central Park, as though a very tacky and un-color-coordinated voodoo priestess has cast a zombification spell over everyone. This weekend the park was positively teeming with visitors walking underneath those bright orange curtains that our Christo calls “The Gates,” mixing and mingling with the gatekeepers with their gray smocks and their rather obscene looking tennis ball topped poles. Frankly, the whole thing rather resembles a construction zone to me, but I cannot fault anyone for designing something that has the capability to mobilize so many people. It is so glorious to see everyone and their roller skates and their bicycles and their dogs all out and enjoying the fresh air and one another’s company. It’s certainly worth slogging through the slush to see them, and the gates themselves, though not my very favorite hue, do sound magnificent when they flutter and snap in the breeze.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

you see? you see what i'm saying? i'm seeing this thing on letterman every night, and here i get a first-hand account. what a tremendous service.

much love,
sam wattegan