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This weekend, the first U.S. survey of the work of Christo and Jeanne-Claude will open in the East Building of the National Gallery of Art. Christo and Jeanne-Claude in the Vogel Collection spans four decades and presents 61 works including preparatory drawings, collages, scale models, and photographs of the site-artists' larger projects.
Born June 13, 1935, Christo, a Bulgarian émigré, studied in Sofia at the Fine Arts Academy. He escaped Prague in early 1957, and traveled to Vienna to resume his studies. By 1958 he had made his way to Paris where he met Jeanne-Claude de Guillebon, who was born in Casablanca on the very same day and year of his birth. The daughter of a French military family, Jeanne-Claude grew up in Tunisia, France, and Switzerland, where she studied Latin and philosophy at the University of Tunis. In 1964, Christo, Jeanne-Claude, and their son Cyril moved to New York City where they still live. Presenting a show that captures the depth of Christo and Jeanne-Claude's work would be a risky undertaking for any museum. Perhaps things were made easier for the National Gallery when Dorothy and Herbert Vogel donated their multi-million-dollar collection of avant-garde and contemporary art to the nation's museum. The Vogels had befriended the Christos in the mid-1960s. As Christo puts it, "Jeanne-Claude and I received a call from Mr. Vogel. We were thinking that this rich collector was coming to buy [our] work, and we were very excited. They asked about some prices, and they said they were too expensive. And we understood."
Too expensive may be an understatement. It costs millions of dollars (with the hundreds of assistants booked each time out) for Christo and Jeanne-Claude to realize their evanescent public projects. Spending this kind of money is "totally irresponsible," according to Christo. "Nobody asked us to spend millions of dollars at these sites. This is about our unstoppable desire to do these works. They are irrational and absolutely unnecessary." Take their work "Surrounding Islands" (1980-83), for example. Not only did the artists spend $3.15 million from loans and the sale of preparatory drawings, they spent a lot of personal time, too. Before they could accomplish what could be called an adaptation of Monet's water lilies, first there would be seven public hearings, ten permits, 90 trips between Miami and New York, and a court battle with an area environmentalist.
This is the catch-it-if-you-can kind of art — now you see it, now you don't. "That is the dimension which allows people for a few moments a day to be confronted with something so irrational, so irresponsible, so free," Christo explained to the Gallery. "Probably the freedom is the essential part of the projects. The very basic premise that it cannot be bought, cannot be commercialized, no one can charge tickets. . . . The projects will go away and nobody owns them." There are new projects in the works. The most recognized now consists of a proposal to construct 11,000 tall steel arches with apricot-colored fabric hanging from their tops along 25 miles of walkway in Central Park. So far, "The Gates" remains Christo and Jeanne-Claude's unfulfilled dream.
"New York City is the city of displaced people, of refugees like us," Christo told the New York Times in 1996. "We wanted to do a project with that feeling of openness, that airy feeling, which is so exhilarating. We also wanted to celebrate the way New Yorkers walk everywhere. It's the most famous city for walking in the world." The artists are willing to spend $6 million on the project, which would, like all the others, remain in tact for two weeks. If any time is right for such an exhibition in the city, it is now. Given the artists' popularity, "The Gates" would draw a mass of spectators, create jobs, and bring needed money to the city. If the National Gallery is correct in saying that Christo and Jeanne-Claude have transcended the traditional boundaries of painting, drawing, sculpture, and architecture, it is nearly impossible to recognize this within the museum's walls. Environmental art, if art at all, is better left out in the open. ART
NOTES Christo, "Running Fence, Project for Sonoma and Marin Counties,
State of California," drawing 1976, graphite, charcoal, wax crayon,
pastel, printed topographic Christo, "Wrapped Walk Ways, Project for Loose Park, Kansas City,
Missouri," collage1978, enamel paint, ball-point pen, graphite, wax
crayon, photograph by Wolfgang Volz, and tape, on paperboard 38.1 x 23.8
cm (15 x 9 3/8 in.) Christo, "Wrapped Reichstag, Project for Berlin," drawing 1995,
graphite, charcoal, pastel, wax crayon, photograph by Wolfgang Volz, printed
elevation drawing, technical data, fabric sample, and tape, on two sheets
of paper in two parts: 38 x 244 cm (15 x 96 in.) and 106.6 x 244 cm (42
x 96 in.) overall: 147 x 244 cm (58 x 96 in.) National Gallery of Art,
Washington, Gift of Christo and Jeanne Claude in Christo, "The Gates, Project for Central Park, New York City,"
drawing 1997, graphite, charcoal, pastel, photograph by Wolfgang Volz,
wax crayon, aerial photograph, and tape, on two sheets of paper in two
parts: 38 x 165 cm (15
— Melissa
Seckora, NR editorial associate |
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hristo
and Jeanne-Claude have a distinct artistic pattern: lobby, wait, and wrap.
The couple spent thirty-two years seeking permission to wrap 178 trees
in mesh in a park in Basel, Switzerland. The project drew no fewer than
300,000 people during the three weeks it was in place in 1998. For another
thirty-plus-year stretch, they lobbied the German government for permission
to wrap the Reichstag in Berlin in more than a million square feet of
silver fabric. "Wrapped Reichstag" attracted more than five
million visitors during its fourteen-day run in 1995. The artists also
spent ten years waiting for permission from French officials to drape
the Pont Neuf in Paris with 440,000 square feet of golden sandstone polymide
fabric and eight miles of rope; and three years to pull off a two-week
extravaganza that required edging 11 islands with six million square feet
of neon pink plastic. 
