I was a total skeptic.  Orange curtains all over New York City’s Central Park? What a stupid idea. But it sure got a lot of hype.

On a sunny, chilly Friday in February, I took the train into the city to see for myself what all the hoopla was about. What I saw was not only beautiful, it radiated cheerfulness to the crowds who walked under it, marveling.

 “The Gates,” (www.the-gates-at-central-park.com) a temporary work of art by artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude, exhibited Feb. 12-27, comprised 7,500 durable orange metal arches from which hung fiery curtains of a changeable yellow-orange material (the artists call it saffron). Their width ranged from 5 feet 6 inches to 18 feet, depending on the size of the paved pathway over which they were placed, and the orange poles were lodged in 15,000 steel metal footings. The exhibit stretched over 23 miles.

The effect was extraordinary. The wintry park, wreathed in bare branches and sometimes snow-covered, became a scene out of a Grandma Moses painting. The cheerful gates, waving in the breezes and glimmering in afternoon sunlight, invited you to pass under them and seemed to drop a blessing when you did. Each path traversed seemed like an accomplishment, and the next one called you to follow it. Far from violating the natural beauty of the park, as critics feared, the art highlighted it.

The placement of the gates was sensitive and clever. For example, they strode around two sides of the The Lake, but left two sides bare to the elements. From Bow Bridge, you could watch cheerful pedestrians frolicking under the orange banners, looking like little skaters in a naïve painting. Looking the other way, you could savor the still, cold bareness of nature against the blue sky.

There was no rigid regularity to the Gates’ positions. Instead, they were laid out in waves, giving the feel of a musical rhythm to those who passed beneath. Sometimes an individual stood alone; in other places, there was a group; around the Sheep Meadow, they flowed in an elegant and seemingly endless curve.

Christo and Jeanne-Claude have been pursuing this strange concept of art involving massive, temporary installations of fabric in public spaces since 1958 (www.christojeanneclaude.net/index.html.en). Some of the most notable include “Running Fence, Project for Sonoma and Marin Counties, California,” 1972-1976, in which nylon fabric, poles and cables sent a white fence curving across open countryside and down to the sea. That project extended over the properties of 59 ranchers and involved 160,000 square meters of fabric. Another striking project was “Surrounded Islands, Biscayne Bay, Greater Miami, Florida,” 1980-1983, in which 603,850 square meters of pink fabric surrounded nearly a dozen islands, giving the impression of amoebas with tufted centers floating peacefully on the clear waters of the bay.

As becomes obvious from the dates of the projects, they take many years to plan and complete. Indeed, The Gates was initiated in 1979, overcoming numerous planning hurdles and miles of red tape, before it was finally brought to fruition. The next project will run along the Arkansas River in Colorado, but no one is projecting how long it will take to complete. (Readers should make an effort to go see it, once it is finished!)

Equally notable is the way the projects are funded: through sales of preliminary drawings, sketches, and publicity materials. Moreover, that money finds its way into the host communities, which often also provide an enthusiastic corps of volunteers to help put the art in place. In this way, the works have been compared to theatrical or musical productions, because they create a community for a temporary artistic experience. Any proceeds from The Gates will benefit Nurture New York’s Nature Inc., Central Park, and other New York City parks.

The ephemeral nature of the art is a third fascinating aspect of the work. It is usually in place for about two weeks, then all materials are recycled and the artwork it vanishes as if it had never been. However, for me — and I would guess for thousands of others — Central Park will never be the same.

The sizable crowds the event attracted represented a positive side effect for the Big Apple. Seldom have I seen such a civilized and delightful outdoor event, as  people of all ages streamed into the city: couples, parents and children, retirees. The event was closely guarded 24/7 to prevent graffiti and desecration, samples of the material were distributed for free, and guides dotted the pathways to provide information. When I asked one whether the crowd was unusual, she responded succinctly, “For Central                                                                               Park?  In February??”

Many visitors also availed themselves of the city’s many amenities. I dined at the nearby City Grill on Columbus Avenue, where my table was tucked into a window overlooking the sidewalk, next to a blessedly warm heater for my frozen feet. Above, in an echo of what I had just seen, decorations of orange ribbons fluttered gently.

Happy Traveling!