The Gates and the Numa Numa Dance

"It's only the gates. A work of art of joy and beauty. We do not build messages. We do not build symbols. It's only a work of art. Nothing else."
-- Christo's wife, Jeanne-Claude

"It made my heart smile--not just my face."
-- bewtiful's "review" of the Numa Numa Dance video

"This ain't going to change the world, but...the guy has some creativity and isn't afraid to throw himself out there. Regardless of your intention, thanks man for brightening my day, if just for a moment."
-- sha987's review of the Numa Numa Dance video

Today is the last day to see The Gates before volunteers begin disassembling the 7,500 saffron-colored, fabric-draped gates that were set up just 15 days ago in Central Park. According to New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg, the large-scale installation was expected to draw "hundreds of thousands of international visitors" this month. And at least as many domestic visitors drove in for a day or flew in for a few days--as my friend, Mayumi, did last Thursday from San Diego--and walked through The Gates.
Not everyone liked The Gates. But there are few who could claim that they were not moved by the experience of walking through them. Central Park was the perfect canvas. And the fabric curtains--which really resembled orange shower curtains more than the robes of Hindu saints and Buddhist monks evoked by Jeanne-Claude's insistence on the term "saffron"--nonetheless stood out against the stark winter landscape, changing shape and shade depending on the strength of the wind and sun.
"I liked it, but where was the art?" asked Mayumi's boyfriend, after his initial pass through the southwest corner of the park.
"You were in it," I told him (though it was a legitimate question).
He'd been looking for paintings in the park initially. He didn't realize that he was walking through the canvas itself.
Another friend suggested that the $21+million could have been much better spent. What was the point of creating an art installation only to take it apart 16 days later?
Someone else asked me: "What do they mean?"
In fact, it seemed several people sought deeper meaning in the color and context of The Gates. The New York magazine art critic even remarked upon the similarity between the artists' names and a certain Biblical figure (“Christo” sounds rather like Christ, and Jeanne-Claude’s initials are J.C. The couple claim to have been born on the same day of the same year), and called the pair of artists "the Pied Pipers of art."
But the whole point of The Gates is that there is no point to putting thousands of fabric covered steel rods in a park--nor is it intended to be permanent. Though The Gates may be captured in sketches and renderings and hundreds of thousands of digital and print photographs, and in the memories of all those who were a part of it, it's existence is ephemeral--"useless and delightful in a society where everything must have a purpose and a price" (as the New York critic added). And that is what drew so many people to the Park: the shared experience; the simple joy of walking through a line of saffron curtains hanging from horseshoe-shaped gates in the middle of Central Park; the evanescent nature of the exhibit.
Those same factors might explain the strange story of Gary Brolsma's sudden rise to fame. The 19-year-old amateur videographer from New Jersey (whose day job is at a local Staples), made a brief clip of himself lip synching and dancing along to a Romanian pop song and posted it online. In less than two weeks, more than two million people had watched the homemade video--and then, in most cases, forwarded it on to several friends. And Brolsma's video was soon appearing everywhere from VH1 to the Today Show to the New York Times online.
Not everyone who watched it thought it deserved the attention it's been getting (and incidentally, according to the Times, Brolsma himself is "distraught and embarrassed" by all the attention and has stopped talking to the media). "The popularity of this video I think just goes to show how retarded people are. AnyBody [sic] could have done this video. You're just sitting in the chair singing and dancing and the video quality isn't even any good," wrote one naysayer on newgrounds.com, where the video clip first appeared, in a review that gave Brolsma a "0" out of 10.
But the vast majority of viewers seem to have enjoyed his clip--as Mayumi and her boyfriend, and my husband and I did. (We've watched it at least a dozen times, and caught ourselves humming the tune when we were out this weekend). The song itself, a Romanian pop tune called "Dragostea Din Tei," makes no sense (even with English subtitles)--nor do some of Brolsma's actions (the fake beard stroking, the double eyebrow lift). Except that they gave us a reason to laugh (and, Gary, we weren't laughing at you, but with you--for the most part, anyway). There was absolutely no point to the video--no symbol, no message. It just let us all share a smile.
Is it any wonder that Gary and the Gates have been so popular?