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How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? (Mother Abbess, The Sound of Music) There was one reason I had planned in mind for my October 2020 trip to Paris and it was the planned installation of Christo and Jean-Claude’s L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped. I wanted to see a cloud pinned down in the middle of Paris. Though nearly forty years in planning, it was once again delayed to 2021 because of the global pandemic we are still facing (my trip cancelled like millions of others). Much like their other large scale temporary projects, the project took decades of planning. Decades of waiting, sketching, permits, conversations, navigating public opinion, ignoring public opinion, politicians, locked bureaucracies and rapidly changing societies. These “mediums” are all part of the work. Yes, government permits as art work.
I have been fascinated with Christo and Jean-Claude’s work mainly through their drawings, videos, and writings on the work. Now, both artists have passed away, and their work is what remains. One of my favorite works happened in 1976 in Marin County, 21 miles of white cloth, made up Running Fence. Knowing running fenced had been there was one of the reasons I fell in love with all my years while cycling the Marin hillsides. As I climbed redwood lined hills with small glimpses of the Pacific Ocean, I imagined the fence there, never having witnessed the project. My history with Christo was always a distant fan, but he even called The Bay Lights (a major point of personal pride, of which I worked on for three years and helped secure its permanency) “a masterwork of public art.” It wasn’t until an exhibition in Sydney, Australia in early 2020 did I see an actual artwork by Christo and Jean-Claude. Much like their purpose of their work, I love the ideas of their work, as much as the physical reality of their sculptures. Their work has pushed my own creative thinking on what is possible, what is needed, and how we might create more positive futures for our own planet. As one of my other favorite artist, Walter de Maria claimed that “the invisible is real.” We need these ideas of making the invisible, visible more than ever before. We are witnesses to major loss to land, deforestation, infrastructure buckling, and species collapsing. Their work is as much as an exercise in loss, as it is about the process of creating a contemporary work of art.
Though I was unable to see the Arc project in person, I have watched via the magic of the internet, videos of people experience in awe, confusion, frustration, and delight in viewing the revered Parisian monument to fallen soldiers, wrapped. The Arc is cenral to Parisian life, much like the nearby Eiffel Tower. As the flame to unknown soldiers continued to burn, so the monument stood, in a different light for 16 days. And what are monuments for, if not to capture our imagination? A recent evaluation of American monuments found that the majority were dedicated to violence. Christo and Jean-Claude’s work promotes a dialogue around our environment, cost (in terms of currency they paid for all their projects privately with selling their drawings, paintings, and models), and collective memory. Much like listening to veterans tell us war stories to those who did not experience the sacrifice of death, suffering, or violence, we sit and listen to their stories of loss. Wrapped does not cover up their stories of sacrifice, but elevates them into a new collective memory for a new generation. It is often said Never Forget, but what happens when we are reminded what to actually remember? I am wrestling with my own loss at another missed opportunity to bear witness, to create a new memory of what is there and identify what might also be missing. But, as Christo said right before he died in May 2020, this was a gift to the French, to Parisians. What a beautifully wrapped gift? A wrapped memory for the rest of our lives.
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? (Mother Abbess, The Sound of Music) There was one reason I had planned in mind for my October 2020 trip to Paris and it was the planned installation of Christo and Jean-Claude’s L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped. I wanted to see a cloud pinned down in the middle of Paris. Though nearly forty years in planning, it was once again delayed to 2021 because of the global pandemic we are still facing (my trip cancelled like millions of others). Much like their other large scale temporary projects, the project took decades of planning. Decades of waiting, sketching, permits, conversations, navigating public opinion, ignoring public opinion, politicians, locked bureaucracies and rapidly changing societies. These “mediums” are all part of the work. Yes, government permits as art work.
I have been fascinated with Christo and Jean-Claude’s work mainly through their drawings, videos, and writings on the work. Now, both artists have passed away, and their work is what remains. One of my favorite works happened in 1976 in Marin County, 21 miles of white cloth, made up Running Fence. Knowing running fenced had been there was one of the reasons I fell in love with all my years while cycling the Marin hillsides. As I climbed redwood lined hills with small glimpses of the Pacific Ocean, I imagined the fence there, never having witnessed the project. My history with Christo was always a distant fan, but he even called The Bay Lights (a major point of personal pride, of which I worked on for three years and helped secure its permanency) “a masterwork of public art.” It wasn’t until an exhibition in Sydney, Australia in early 2020 did I see an actual artwork by Christo and Jean-Claude. Much like their purpose of their work, I love the ideas of their work, as much as the physical reality of their sculptures. Their work has pushed my own creative thinking on what is possible, what is needed, and how we might create more positive futures for our own planet. As one of my other favorite artist, Walter de Maria claimed that “the invisible is real.” We need these ideas of making the invisible, visible more than ever before. We are witnesses to major loss to land, deforestation, infrastructure buckling, and species collapsing. Their work is as much as an exercise in loss, as it is about the process of creating a contemporary work of art.
Though I was unable to see the Arc project in person, I have watched via the magic of the internet, videos of people experience in awe, confusion, frustration, and delight in viewing the revered Parisian monument to fallen soldiers, wrapped. The Arc is cenral to Parisian life, much like the nearby Eiffel Tower. As the flame to unknown soldiers continued to burn, so the monument stood, in a different light for 16 days. And what are monuments for, if not to capture our imagination? A recent evaluation of American monuments found that the majority were dedicated to violence. Christo and Jean-Claude’s work promotes a dialogue around our environment, cost (in terms of currency they paid for all their projects privately with selling their drawings, paintings, and models), and collective memory. Much like listening to veterans tell us war stories to those who did not experience the sacrifice of death, suffering, or violence, we sit and listen to their stories of loss. Wrapped does not cover up their stories of sacrifice, but elevates them into a new collective memory for a new generation. It is often said Never Forget, but what happens when we are reminded what to actually remember? I am wrestling with my own loss at another missed opportunity to bear witness, to create a new memory of what is there and identify what might also be missing. But, as Christo said right before he died in May 2020, this was a gift to the French, to Parisians. What a beautifully wrapped gift? A wrapped memory for the rest of our lives.