Bree - if you haven't spotted it yet - I shouted out to you on The Prince Does New York thread. The Prince'll be in town soon!
I just saw a friend off on a weekend trip to NYC. She's Ms.JosephineDoesn'tCareAboutArtatallatall - but says she's gonna check The Gates out for me - after I promised she didn't have to pay anything (but I woulda paid to get her impression).
Or missing quinn has just informed me that somerville, my very own next town neighbor has it's own The Gates on display. She kindly sent me a picture.
Here's a link to the full installation:
http://www.not-rocket-science.com/door_gates.htm
Note, if you will, the curvilinear aspect of the gate placement references the cat's tail's curve!
Osso - did you check out the rest of the installation?
You mean the bowl? Surely referencing a pond of some sort?
click the link at the bottom of that post!
Oh, littleK, that is hilarious! I especially like the comparison chart between Christo's "The Gates" and "The Somerville Gates" ("Viewing period: until the cleaning lady comes").
Don't thank me, thank the elusive quinn1!
No, I missed that, thanks, littlek, that is Wonderful, thank you, Quinn!!!
The Gates Watch
It will support the project. I'll get one.
A riff on the Gates by Rick Moranis, as seen in today's New York Times -
New York Times
OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR
Heaven's Gates
By RICK MORANIS
Published: February 19, 2005
I had a dream last night. I was 5 years old. It was summer. There was no air-conditioning in our little bungalow on the small crescent-shaped street in the suburbs of Toronto. And so to cool ourselves, we ran through the freshly hanging sheets on the backyard clotheslines. I had no idea that every one of my neighbors had the same apricot-colored linen that we did. Towels too! It was beautiful; as far as the eye could see, rows and rows of shimmering golden-orange fabric dancing in the light.
I hoped it would stay like that forever, or maybe another week or so max.
I heard my mother calling me. In a French accent. She was much older now, with bright red hair.
"Come 'ere," she said. "It's time to unwrap the house!"
Our tiny home was covered in 9,000 square meters of ivory woven polypropylene tied with 35 kilometers of 1.5-centimeter diameter steel cables and blue polyamide rope, anchored to 325 tons of concrete foundation. A team of 23 professional mountain climbers and 275 laborers, volunteers and students of architecture from my Hebrew school class had toiled for some 17,000 man-hours to complete the installation. Our neighbors thought we had an earwig problem and were spraying. But many, except for the Applebaums across the street, could appreciate the beauty and majesty of the project.
For years the city had told my parents this would never happen and then, boom, one day my Uncle Manny gets elected mayor! The documentary crews were filming everything. My mother was doing yet another interview explaining how she'd come up with the idea and paid for it by selling pictures of my father wrapped in 312 square meters of tinfoil bound with 400 kilometers of waxed polyethylene 390-filament nylon amine-fluoride mint-flavored dental floss.
It was time. The helicopters roared overhead, narrowly missing a confused homeless family of red-tailed hawks. The street was clogged with 1,000 cars. No one had ever seen this many New Jersey license plates in Canada.
Finally, I took the long extension pole and hooked the tiny partly hydrogenated trans fat ivory loop that an army of seamstresses and chefs had prepared for the unveiling.
The crowd roared in astonishment. The chrysalis had been shed. A new beginning! A rebirth!
I went inside what had been my tiny childhood home. My bedroom was now an enormous luxury skybox. The floor was covered in 300 square meters of celadon tufted colortec synthetic broadloom from Carpet Liquidators on 14th Street, marked up like crazy by the architect, contractor, installer, union and the city so that what should have been $5 a yard was costing a fortune. The house was massive, completely dwarfing the entire neighborhood. There were 100 more skyboxes, a retractable roof, convention facilities and 80,000 seats overlooking the most beautiful ice surface I'd ever seen.
But, sadly, no hockey was being played.
I asked my mother how we could ever afford to pay for this. She smiled and took me outside, unwrapped my father and then pointed to a perch at the top of the mammoth structure.
The family of hawks had quickly begun building a nest out of tiny pieces of the orange sheets and towels, paper tubing, vinyl covering, hats, T-shirts, buttons and other discarded licensed and copyrighted merchandise.
"See those birds?" she said. "Someone bought them the penthouse."
Rick Moranis is a writer and actor.
Yikes, a double post. I'd improved for such a long time...
that's funny
rick moranis is a silly silly man, and i love him
i may get one of those watches
i misplaced my watch earlier this week and have been looking for a new one
I kind of like the watch too, g'help me.
On a pro-Gates note, a discerning pal from San Diego emailed me about just coming back from New York and how she was thrilled with seeing the Gates and how much she enjoyed the experience of walking through them....
Then there's "the Crackers" ("as much a public happening as it is a tasty snack"):
Click here for "the Crackers" webpage
thank you bree for the link to the webpage! I toured the home site there and enjoyed the delightful photos of the children scampering around the Gates. The web masters are great photographers.
Hey Cobalt!
HI
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Everyone, punch up the link with the kids and the park and the people.
Kids, park, people
Joe(Well, it got lots of people to the Park in the middle of winter.)Nation
