His absolute emptiness, his use of monstrous scales as a way of attracting capital, his pecuniary greed – only comparable in impudence to Dalí – his total, absolute and voluntary renunciation of signifying the slightest contribution to those who contemplate his works, is in itself a faithful, hyper-realistic even, portrait of the spirit of the ruling classes of his time. Classes of which he was a part from his birth. That is why Christo is a paradox. It’s not art, no. But its essence is so sterile and dead that it represents like few others the anti-human, anti-historical character of the system in our times. Bunting or tarp cover included.