Contrarians at "The Gates"
Annie and I were in Manhattan this afternoon and got a chance to see "The Gates," the endearingly pointless art mega-installation now up in Central Park. Prior to seeing it up close and in person, my reaction was balanced between appreciation for the beauty of a purposeless gesture (and a culture that ascribes at least some value to such indulgences; it's hard to imagine "The Gates" going up in many other parts of the country) and wishing the gesture had a purpose. Having now seen them, I think I "get it" but I remain unconvinced it was really worth "getting."

Annie's contention--that the overwhelming impression is of highway roadwork signs denuded of text--works about as well as any aesthetic judgment I could render. I now wonder, though, if maybe that isn't the point in some way: a comment about the blurry line between art and inconvenience, or that both are best experienced communally.

The effect of the project is greater the more of it you can take in at once. Anybody who works or lives in the upper floors of a building along the edge of the Park probably has a greater appreciation of it--both for the god's-eye vantage point and for being afforded the chance to enjoy the installation without having to elbow through crowds--than those who take it in piecemeal. But even from Central Park South, seeing the slope and curve of the Gates along the paths of the Park gave me a renewed appreciation of how lovely and useful that urban oasis is--not in and of itself a bad thing, at all.

Finally, anything that inspires commendable smart-assery like this, almost has to be worthwhile.