For a while now, I've been noticing how snarky phrases often contain the wisdom of enlightenment, if you think about them.
Given a shift in perspective, even a phrase as condemningly dismissive as the classic, “if you’ve seen one you’ve seen ‘em all,” reads with a transcendent, expansive truth.
I guess seeing anyone or anything truly, we glimpse the unfolding, mysterious totality of existence. Afterall, that's how the saying goes.
Monday’s dismantling commences the recycling of “The Gates” project. For those who witnessed the installation, The Gates’ brief, dazzling existence now blazes as a phantom image in our memory - the way we were those 16 days in February 2005.
During the work’s tenure, I found myself attuned to every appearance of what became Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s saffron: MTA workers on the lines, buddhist meditation centers, street signs, the very ties worn by waiters at Gramercy Tavern, all leapt out as reminders.
I joined many in the City who scrambled up hills and sought communion with friends in skyscrapers neighboring the park in a quest to view The Gates with any approximation of panoramic totality. To take in the full scope of the work, though, one would have to be perched impractically high above Central Park.
The pragmatic mysticism of this drawing for the heavens is its beautiful reality: in order to actually pass through the gates, you must have your feet firmly planted on the ground - the grace of being earthbound and maybe the whole point in delighting in it all.