Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s production, “The Gates, Central Park, 1979-2005,” opened Saturday morning and will close Sunday evening, February 27. Just 13 days remain for you to take in the gigantic array of public art. New Yorkers should see the exhibition for themselves before they make a judgment on its merits. We opposed Christo’s original proposal in 1980, and wrote a skeptical column about the installation last April. Since then, we have essentially maintained a disciplined silence despite press requests, not wishing to make a further judgment on the show before it opened.

The vinyl gates have now been installed over 23 miles of Central Park pathways, and 7,500 orange nylon sheets hang from them and flap in the breeze, if any. The overall effect is a striking infusion of bright color, coming at a time when the trees are leafless. The public is largely favorably impressed by the temporary display, but if they thought it would be permanent, many park visitors would choke on it.

Judged by the standards of Cecil B. DeMille, the event must be considered a great success. No one before has ever seen over seven thousand schmatas hanging from orange crossbars over park paths, and, presumably, such a sight will not reappear in our lifetime. Even if you think the gates are ugly, or a machine-made derogation of real art, or that the display is inappropriate in a natural area, or that Christo Javacheff and Jeanne-Claude Denat de Guillebon (his wife, business manager, and muse) are shameless self-promoters, there is still much to appreciate in the colorful spectacle, including the fact that it was done. And it is no tragedy to do it once, to amuse, enlighten, and provoke people, as long as no harm is done to the park. Perhaps the sight will teach us to be watchful about monkeying with the park’s natural landscape in order to suit the caprice of artists with deep pockets.

We are told that the show will bring thousands of European tourists to New York City over its two-week run to take advantage of the cheap dollar and the unique exhibition. Art lovers from all over this continent may also be moved to see “The Gates” in person. February is usually a slow month for tourism because of the cold. We expect the usual agencies to produce figures showing how many millions of dollars came into the city’s economy because of the advent of the Christos. If, as promised, every trace of the gates, including footings, is removed after the closing date of February 27, the park should suffer no permanent damage.

That would not have happened under Christo’s original plan, which was rejected by former Commissioner Gordon Davis in 1980, who wrote a 107-page treatise on why it was inappropriate for the park. I concurred with his view until I left parks in 2002. Mr. Davis reversed his opinion that year, upon his appointment by Mayor Bloomberg to the board of directors of the Central Park Conservancy, a group which had previously opposed the orangification of the park.

In today’s degraded value system, being well known is much more important than exactly what you are well known for. The exhibit will not hurt Central Park’s reputation. Nobody felt any worse about the Reichstag after the Christos wrapped it in silver polypropylene in 1995, although we think they could have used sackcloth to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the destruction of the capital of the Third Reich.

The legal agreement the city hammered out with the artist-sponsors is far better than the one that was proposed by Christo in the 1980s. The revised conditions, the result of firm and forceful negotiations, make the scheme far more appealing than it was when it was first presented.

Other circumstances have changed as well in the last quarter century. Central Park is in far better shape today than it was in 1980, due to strenuous efforts by the city and the generous Central Park Conservancy, founded and led for years by Elizabeth Barlow Rogers. The park is no longer the butt of mugger jokes. It is safe, clean, and beautiful. It invites visitors without fear or embarrassment. And the prolific Bulgarian-born Christo is far better known today, due to work he has done with Jeanne-Claude in California and Japan, Biscayne Bay off the Florida coast, and the Pont Neuf in Paris, as well as the Reichstag. He has completed many successful projects around the world, and, now approaching 70 years of age he is at the summit of his career. So we can be less concerned about setting a bad precedent than we were 25 years ago.

We proceed to the question: Is it art? To take a page from recent history, that depends on what your definition of “art” is. If art is what people are willing to buy because they think it is pretty, their friends are buying it, and it may increase in value, the answer is definitely yes. If art is something that is beautiful, the answer is that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and that it is art to some and not to others. If art is what they show at the Metropolitan Museum, the Louvre or other great museums, the fit is not that good, although Christo was given a full-dress show at the Met last year for his drawings, partially paid for by a powerful and prestigious patron.

The striking aspect of this work is not particularly its beauty, although it is probably as attractive as orange vinyl bars with hanging shower curtains can ever be. With daubs of white at their centers, the curtains could well be creamsicles. The distinction lies in its unique site, Central Park, an iconic location important to urban history, landscape architecture, and real estate values in Manhattan. Also noteworthy is this artistic producer’s enviable persistence in gaining consent from the authorities to have his work displayed in prestigious public places. The show is labeled “1979-2005” to inform us that it took a generation for the backward provincial authorities to see the light and grant permission for the show.

In fact, parks saw relatively little of Christo during the 15 years I served as parks commissioner under Mayors Koch and Giuliani. There were approaches through Theodore Kheel, the labor mediator who represented Christo. Occasionally, a socialite would tell me what a great man the artist was. But his attention to other projects basically put Central Park on the back burner, and it was not a public issue for many years.

Christo’s conquest of Central Park is due to one and only one person, Mr. Bloomberg, an art collector who admires his work. While a board member of the Central Park Conservancy in the 1990s, he came out as an early Christonian. At that time, the board rejected his suggestion for the right reasons. However, when he was elected mayor in 2001, and won the right to appoint five board members, the trustees – some cheerfully and some grudgingly – saw the light. The conservancy contented itself with protecting the park from damage, and seeking compensation for the intrusion.

Under the leadership of Deputy Mayor Patricia Harris, who in the 1980s had been executive director of the city’s Art Commission under Mr. Koch, the transaction advanced steadily. Parks Commissioner Adrian Benepe and Conservancy President Douglas Blonsky were assiduous in their assistance on their assigned task. In 2003, the mayor and Christo announced the exhibit for February 2005. Albert Maysles has made Christo documentaries for many years and is now working on “The Gates.” The modified exhibition, which could be called “Christo Lite,” is now on display. It has turned out to have brought the public considerable entertainment and not harmed the landscape materially. Park visitors can take in the spectacle, the park gets more attention and more use than normal, people venture out to walk its paths in freezing February, tourists’ dollars jingle through the city’s hotels and restaurants.

Just as he would be blamed if this were a debacle, the mayor should be credited with its success. Those who love the parks, natural areas and landscapes will never be enchanted by man-made intrusions, even under the elegant cloak of public art. Some people cannot wait for the garish gates to be gone. They will not have long to wait. Their memory will have been seared by the exhibit, an example of what the park would look like if were commercialized.

Financial questions also linger: If Christo paid the $21 million he says it cost to mount the exhibition, how and from whom will that substantial sum be recovered? He and Jeanne-Claude are by no means starving artists, but it is surprising that they would be able to invest eight figures in an ephemeral project. He says he accepts no corporate or personal sponsorships. But who buys the drawings, which are said to go for $600,000 for the large, and $100,000 for the small? Are these investments in the drawings of a living artist reasonable? How much pin money does one need to be a collector? Are the drawings cheaper by the dozen?

One thing I have learned in public life is that there is no certainty over whether a decision or an event will turn out to be good, bad or something in between. This is particularly true when the issue is rooted in artistic values. The best course is to make honest judgments on the basis of the facts that you can ascertain, uninfluenced by personal whims or outside pressures. You may lose on the issue; you may even be mistaken but you will act with honor.

To add a clause to my words of last April “Le jardin n’est pas une orangerie, mais pour deux semains ca va.”

Mr. Stern is a former New York City parks commissioner and the director of New York Civic.