Nobody tell Mayor Bloomberg, but I didn’t go to New York City to see The Gates, the public-art exhibition by Christo and Jeanne-Claude. I went, basically, because it was time. I moved to New Jersey in January, right on the heels of a blizzard. It was the kind of snowstorm that would have resulted in Armageddon if it had happened in Dallas or Birmingham or Atlanta, although it rated little to no notice among my fellow New Jerseyans, who were quick to reassure me that it was “no big deal,” and that it was “just a few flakes.”

So after a series of weekends spent unpacking and learning the fine art of snowblower maintenance, it was time for some fun. My fiancée and I had planned a full day in the city–lunch at a deli, tickets to a Broadway show, dinner at a nice steakhouse, and then a New Jersey Transit train-ride home. But somewhere between lunchtime and the overture, we had a little time to kill, and Central Park and The Gates were right there.

Maybe the most remarkable thing about The Gates is that it is just as advertised. The pathways of Central Park are bounded by square vinyl poles, from which hang fabric panels. Both poles and fabric are a distinctive orange-yellow color. Christo describes this color as “saffron.” The New York Times called the color “apricot,” which may give you a better idea. I thought that it looked something like the Creamsicle orange color used by the University of Tennessee sports teams, but Christo doesn’t strike me as being much of a Volunteers fan.

Walking through The Gates is something of a pedestrian experience. There’s nothing inherently magical about the installation in and of itself. In fact, it’s marginally less magical to stroll through Central Park with the gates than without them, what with the crowds and the saffron “shower curtains” blocking out the view of the skyline. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” my fiancée said.

But step off the pathways, and the perspective changes. The Gates is seen to best effect from outside, as a large-scale kinetic sculpture. (Apartment dwellers with parkside views have been keeping window-washers busy for just this reason.) As people walk through the park, bundled up against the cold, passing between the posts in an endless procession, the simple beauty of the design becomes clear. Not to mention that it’s people-watching of a high order, not least because eternally fashion-conscious New Yorkers have managed to color coordinate their outfits with the saffron.

When The Gates are removed on February 27, it might be that the project will have had no more lasting significance than adding a welcome splash of color across the wintry landscape. But The Gates has some important lessons for conservatives in its approach to the way that cities and government approaches the arts. If The Gates do nothing else, they show that art does not have to be a public charge. It was installed without NEA grant funding or significant financial support from New York. Say what you like about the esthetics of The Gates, but they would look much less appealing if they came with a public price tag. Also, part of the proceeds from licensing of the project are slated to go to the Central Park Conservancy, helping to defray any wear and tear to the park itself. While The Gates isn’t quite cost-free, conservatives can certainly sympathize with the long-term bureaucratic battle it took to get the project finally completed.

The Gates are also appealing because they are plain–not only in their simple, clean design, but in that they are unadorned with literary conceit. In an art world suffused with left-wing nonsense, it’s refreshing to see a project conceived without apparent political content. There’s not even so much as a corporate logo to spoil the saffron banners. Even the color is conservative; Christo hasn’t given into the temptation to indulge in some wavy-gravy color scheme. (Although one shouldn’t expect President Bush to show up with an apricot-colored tie anytime soon.)

Perhaps the best thing about The Gates is that they are temporary, in keeping with the theory of Conceptualism. Sooner or later, the fabric would have frayed, the poles would be toppled, and the gates themselves would be vandalized or spirited away. Worse, they would have gone out of style, like so much of the other existing public art that large cities everywhere won’t maintain and can’t get rid of. Sooner or later, whatever you think about The Gates, they will be gone, and New York can get on with the important issues of whether Jason Giambi will get his swing back or whether the Mets will underachieve again this year.

But The Gates defy Conceptualism. They will remain as supporting players on ten thousand videos, in the background of ten times more photographs. The people who traveled through The Gates are what made them inviting, and exciting, and, finally, artistic. Artistic enough to turn the city golden for a time, or at least saffron.

–Curtis Edmonds writes movie reviews at www.txreviews.com . He lives in New Jersey, and just bought a much warmer coat.