The Process of Art Christosí Exhibit Shows Method Behind Their Outsize Installations by Serena Lei The artist Christo was explaining how he and his wife, Jeanne-Claude, work on more than one project at a time. Jeanne-Claude sat by his side, interlacing her fingers, words forming on her lips. When he paused, midsentence, she leaned over and seamlessly whispered to him the word that he was searching foróìinterweave.î Their projects interweave as their ideas interweave. They answer as one person, saying, ìWe donít understand,î and make a point of the coincidence that they were born on the same date in the same year. Christo (Christo Vladimirov Javacheff) and Jeanne-Claude (Jeanne-Claude Marie de Guillebon) met in 1958 in Paris. Christo was an artist before meeting his wife. Jeanne-Claude admits to becoming an artist out of her love for Christo. When asked how his art had changed after meeting his wife, Jeanne-Claude immediately answered, ìNo. His art did not change after meeting me.î She answers as if their physical meeting was only a technicality. Their work had previously been credited only to Christo, but in 1994, the couple went public with the correction that husband and wife were co-artists on all their outdoor installations. To really experience a work of art by the Christos, you have to see it. The projects are tremendous, grand-scale, outsize dreamsóconceptual art nearly impossible to realize. These projects include ìRunning Fence, Sonoma and Marin Counties, California, 1972-76,î a 24-mile long fence of white fabric twisting across the Californian hills, and ìThe Pont Neuf Wrapped, Paris, 1975-85î where the Christos wrapped the Pont Neuf bridge in Paris with a golden-colored fabric. Their outdoor-wrapping projects grew out of Christoís first works of artówrapped packages and covered storefronts. These packages, wrapped in burlap and tied tightly in knots of twine and rope, were influenced by Christoís first impressions of Western commercialism and packaged goods. The concept of wrapping and concealing is taken to a new level with ìWrapped Coast, One Million Square Feet, Little Bay, Sydney, Australia, 1968-69,î where part of the Australian coastline was wrapped in fabric and rope. Recently, the Christos have moved away from wrapping. ìSurrounded Islands, Biscayne Bay, Greater Miami, Florida, 1980-83î is a group of 11 islands that the Christos surrounded with bright pink fabric, covering the surface of the water. ìThe Umbrellas JapanóU.S.A., 1984-91î was an installation of 1,340 giant blue umbrellas in Japan and 1,760 yellow umbrellas in California, all opened at once. These projects are as much architecture and engineering as art, which brings us to the new exhibit at the National Gallery of Art, ìChristo and Jeanne-Claude in the Vogel Collection.î Aside from a few wrapped packages and objects, the exhibit is mainly an homage to the process. Along with photographs of the Christosí completed work, several sketches of unrealized projects and current ideas in progress are also on display. ìThe mistake is made,î Jeanne-Claude explained, ìthat the process is more important than the finished product. Not at all Ö The completed work has been the only reason for the whole process.î Then why an exhibit, not to mention a film series and books documenting every detail of the process? Because the installations are temporary. Years of work build up to a strict two-week viewing of the finished project before it is torn down and recycled. Granted, the process is monumental, but it is not the art. It is preparatory drawings, models, photographs and collages, all of which are on display. It is permits and planning and research, all of which the Christos are intimately involved with. Christo passionately rattles off numbersó15,000 miles driven to tour 96 riversóand lists the bureaucratic agencies he must persuade, the measurements, the engineers, the process. It is fascinating to see how something as impossible as wrapping the Reichstag in Berlin becomes a reality through their work. However, the work is not, as even Jeanne-Claude has explained, more important than the finished product. It is a shame that most of us can only experience their work through photographs, but this preparatory work is better suited for their films and books and not for a full-scale exhibit at the National Gallery. The Christos sell the early works and drawings to pay for their large outdoor projects. They make a point of avoiding commercialism and government grants, preferring to fund their projects independently. This also gives them the freedom to have complete control of their projects. The Christos also avoid any group exhibitions. Christoís disgust of anything ìcollectiveî is a result of the oppression he felt growing up in Bulgaria under communist rule. His art is a source of liberation for him and an expression of his individualism. Although the Christos resist labels, their art has been called ìenvironmentalî for its use of the natural landscape. The label is misleadingóalthough the environment is their setting, a giant, artificial, bright orange curtain of fabric suspended in a valley like an oversized construction barrier (ìValley Curtain, Grand Hogback, Rifle, Colorado, 1970-72î) is not meant to blend in, mimic nature, or carry a particularly environmentally conscious message. Perhaps a better label is ìAmerican,î for although the Christos are of European descent, what is more American than extremity (think ìsupersizeî)? In this, in the sheer size and effort, in the idea that something so impossible and unexpected could be completed, the Christos have shown us something beautiful. It is this freedom to dream that the Christos have embraced, as Jeanne-Claude explained, ìto create art for no purpose whatsoever except to be a work of art.î ìChristo and Jeanne-Claude in the Vogel Collectionî runs through June 23 at the National Gallery of Art, Fourth Street at Constitution Avenue, NW. For more information, please call (202) 737-4215 or visit www.nga.gov. Serena Lei is an arts writer for The Washington Diplomat.