BY CATHERINE BUTLER
Artist duo Christo and Jeanne-Claude built a radical creative and business model around one non-negotiable principle: total independence. To protect their creative freedom, they rejected the traditional artist–gallery system and refused patrons, sponsors, grants, or public funding. Every monumental, temporary, installation was self-funded.
After initial support from Jeanne-Claude’s family, they quickly became a fully independent business. Christo was the visionary creator; Jeanne-Claude the organiser and operational force behind turning ideas into reality. Together, they founded the CVJ Corporation in the United States to manage sales, logistics, and legal matters. Crucially, they chose direct relationships over institutional marketing.
No gallery representation, no intermediaries–only personal relationships with dealers, collectors, institutions, engineers, officials, landowners, and communities. When needed, they created local subsidiaries to execute projects on the ground. Their work advanced through trust, persistence, and face-to-face persuasion, not brand campaigns.
Entrepreneurs in spirit – and in practice. They embodied entrepreneurship: bold vision, defiance of convention, resilience in the face of rejection, and an uncompromising need for freedom. Yet they were not typical entrepreneurs. As avant-garde artists, they reshaped the public art market, recycled materials, restored sites, and treated the entire process–permissions, negotiations, logistics–as part of the artwork itself.
How they paid for the impossible.
Their rule was simple: “If you draw it, you can pay for it.” They funded multi-million-euro projects by selling Christo’s preparatory drawings, collages, scale models, and earlier works–selling directly to collectors and museums. They used bank credit when needed and generated income through books, films, and authorized photography. Not a penny came from public funding, patrons, or sponsors. Even L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped was funded entirely through artwork sales, shielding it from the usual “taxpayer money” criticism.
Negotiation, not marketing. They did not “launch campaigns.” They built coalitions. Their work came to life through years of conversations with landowners, civil servants, engineers, neighbours, journalists, and critics. They refused to dilute their vision, but they invested heavily in relationships–listening, persuading, returning again and again. This relational labour was as essential as the physical installation. It was not negotiation in the familiar transactional sense of trading one thing for another. Rather it was a relational process, a mix of courtship, alliance-building, and sometimes it seemed, also picking fights.
Some things take time ….
By design, their physical art was visible only briefly. The Gates in New York were up for just sixteen days and then, quickly dismantled. In that sense their art was transitory. Yet the genesis of that project was almost three decades earlier, when the pair first approached municipal authorities for permission to install their work in Central Park. Over that period, there were countless public hearings and private meetings with both supporters and opponents. Other projects similarly took years to reach fruition. Ultimately more than twenty installations were approved and built. Twice that number were rejected or abandoned.
….. and perseverance
Calvin Tomkins, in his New Yorker profile of the Christos, observed: “If you had to name one essential quality that underlies Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s career, which is unique in contemporary art, it would probably be perseverance–unbending, implacable perseverance. They have been willing to wait for years or decades to realise some of their grandiose, ephemeral, absurdly beautiful spectacles, working on two or more at a time until they get the necessary permits to go ahead with one of them.”
Christo and Jeanne-Claude emphasised–repeatedly–that the arduous process of winning support was itself an integral part of the art. Appearing before county commissioners for the Running Fence project in the 1970s, Christo insisted that: “The work is not only the fabric, the steel poles, and the fence. The art project is right now here. Everybody here is part of my work. If they want. If they don’t want. Anyway, they are part of the work. Instead to have coloured and white. They are integral part of making that art. . . It is a very deep political, social, economic experience I live right now with everybody here. And it is nothing involved with the make-believe. That appeal was not staged by me. We have emotion and fear. But that is, of course, part of the project.”
The meetings always drew people loudly opposed to their projects, some of whom may have resented being conscripted into the process. These gatherings were like “watering holes for grievances,” was an observation. People’s reasons for opposing the projects were varied, but the depth of their hostility was a common element. The presence of reporters and camera crews heightened the drama. The question for the Christos was how to convince, mollify, assuage, neutralise, and/or overcome the opposition.
…… and money
Then there was the matter of money. Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s projects typically cost millions of dollars, funds that some people believed would be better spent on education, public health, and other social programs. The fact was that Christo and Jeanne-Claude never sought public funds or accepted commissions. Instead, they covered the costs themselves, using proceeds from lines of credit and the sale of Christo’s sketches and plans. Over the years the success of their public projects enhanced the value of their stock of private work. In turn, the increased value enabled them to fund even more ambitious projects going forward. Many simply refused to believe that Christo and Jeanne-Claude would do what they claimed–pay all the costs themselves–simply for the joy of doing it. More than once Christo himself said, “The great power of the projects is that they are absolutely irrational. That drives people berserk. First, because they think it’s not true. They think we have some hidden resources, that we’re lying. Secondly, if it is true, that it is almost imbecile, stupid, impossible.” The challenge for Christo and Jeanne-Claude was responding to deeply felt objections coming from different quarters. The other non-negotiable issue–paying for access to a site they wanted–came up in that project. They almost always refused to do so, even when their arms were twisted. At a hearing one of the County Commissioners declared, “I can’t overcome my own personal feeling that the project is conceptually offensive. That it’s exploitative of something that I regard as beautiful, as sacrosanct in its natural form”. Maybe that sentiment was sincere; maybe it was just intended as a bargaining chip. During a break, he spoke with Jeanne-Claude and her lawyer, asking them to make a “proffer,” a contribution to the county. Jeanne-Claude said no, they never do that. She was so forceful that the Commissioner admitted that he felt uncomfortable making the demand, saying, “There is a sense of blackmail about it”. But he persisted with an ask for $250,000, which Jeanne-Claude flatly rejected.
That exchange didn’t lead to a deadlock, however. Instead, she opened the door to agreement by suggesting that the county could make money selling tote bags and other goods depicting images of their installation. All that revenue would go to the county; none to the artists. She also agreed to cover the cost of removing trash that been washed up on the island–forty tons of it, as it turned out–and she guaranteed a full clean-up when the installation was dismantled- which was always their practice. These proposals opened up an elegant, value-creating solution and preserved the Christos’ principle of not paying for access, at least not directly, and probably saved face for the Commissioner, as well. Forging relationships takes time, especially between people with markedly different backgrounds and aspirations. Although Christo and Jeanne-Claude would not pay tribute to public officials, they apparently weren’t averse to investing materially to forge relationships with constituents who might sway the regulatory boards.
Other local supporters felt kinship with the artists. At that same decisive hearing was Mrs.George Michelson from Petaluma, a farmer’s wife as she introduced herself, straight from central casting. Speaking in favour of the project, she said: “The fence does go through our property. We welcome it. There was one thing said about art being temporal. Some of the meals I prepare aren’t much. The rest of you can all say that, too. But sometimes I go to a lot of work to prepare a meal that I think is art. It’s a masterpiece. And what happens? It gets eaten up and disappears, and everybody forgets! “She got loud cheers and laughter. After years of work, Christo and Jeanne-Claude had become part of the community. Calling for a vote, the board chair said: “I am convinced that this project will create, of course, no environmental harm. We have the permission by the ranchers. We have benefits bestowed not only on the local ranchers upon whose land it goes, but much needed jobs for the county. Thank you, gentlemen. Call the roll,please. The crowd burst into applause. Jeanne-Claude turned to a person next to her, her eyes first full of surprise and then, exaltation. Only then did Christo start to smile, the last person in the room to realize that at long last they had won.
Twenty-five years later the Smithsonian American Art Museum hosted a retrospective that included screening a new documentary capturing how Running Fence had come to be remembered. Looking back almost everyone loved the installation and treasured their friendship with Christo and Jeanne-Claude. The controversy was all but forgotten. The only dissenters were some local artists still miffed that outsiders got all the attention. The Christos also accepted the fact that they didn’t need to please everybody. Having opposition made for great theatre. They could cast themselves as generous, daring, and valiant, while painting their adversaries as narrow-minded and mean-spirited. That, in turn, enabled them to express themselves even more forcefully. As the documentaries confirm repeatedly, they knew how to perform on the public stage and how to talk, very differently, in private conversations.
The deeper lesson
Christo and Jeanne-Claude offer a rare model for creative independence:
• Creative freedom depends on financial independence.
• Big visions require long-term perseverance.
• Cultural change is built through real relationships, not marketing funnels.
• Institutions can be bypassed when trust networks are built instead.
Their art was temporary by design.
Their approach to freedom, relationships, and self-funded creativity was anything but.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have shown us what happens, what we can achieve when we let go of the constraints that bind us, and embrace our very best ideas. They show us the power of art to change our lives. They show us what it means to live completely freely, in debt to no patron, no sponsor, no ideology, and really recognising no authority in our lives beyond our own moral compass and personal vision.
Artist duo Christo and Jeanne-Claude built a radical creative and business model around one non-negotiable principle: total independence. To protect their creative freedom, they rejected the traditional artist–gallery system and refused patrons, sponsors, grants, or public funding. Every monumental, temporary, installation was self-funded.
After initial support from Jeanne-Claude’s family, they quickly became a fully independent business. Christo was the visionary creator; Jeanne-Claude the organiser and operational force behind turning ideas into reality. Together, they founded the CVJ Corporation in the United States to manage sales, logistics, and legal matters. Crucially, they chose direct relationships over institutional marketing.
No gallery representation, no intermediaries–only personal relationships with dealers, collectors, institutions, engineers, officials, landowners, and communities. When needed, they created local subsidiaries to execute projects on the ground. Their work advanced through trust, persistence, and face-to-face persuasion, not brand campaigns.
Entrepreneurs in spirit – and in practice. They embodied entrepreneurship: bold vision, defiance of convention, resilience in the face of rejection, and an uncompromising need for freedom. Yet they were not typical entrepreneurs. As avant-garde artists, they reshaped the public art market, recycled materials, restored sites, and treated the entire process–permissions, negotiations, logistics–as part of the artwork itself.
How they paid for the impossible.
Their rule was simple: “If you draw it, you can pay for it.” They funded multi-million-euro projects by selling Christo’s preparatory drawings, collages, scale models, and earlier works–selling directly to collectors and museums. They used bank credit when needed and generated income through books, films, and authorized photography. Not a penny came from public funding, patrons, or sponsors. Even L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped was funded entirely through artwork sales, shielding it from the usual “taxpayer money” criticism.
Negotiation, not marketing. They did not “launch campaigns.” They built coalitions. Their work came to life through years of conversations with landowners, civil servants, engineers, neighbours, journalists, and critics. They refused to dilute their vision, but they invested heavily in relationships–listening, persuading, returning again and again. This relational labour was as essential as the physical installation. It was not negotiation in the familiar transactional sense of trading one thing for another. Rather it was a relational process, a mix of courtship, alliance-building, and sometimes it seemed, also picking fights.
Some things take time ….
By design, their physical art was visible only briefly. The Gates in New York were up for just sixteen days and then, quickly dismantled. In that sense their art was transitory. Yet the genesis of that project was almost three decades earlier, when the pair first approached municipal authorities for permission to install their work in Central Park. Over that period, there were countless public hearings and private meetings with both supporters and opponents. Other projects similarly took years to reach fruition. Ultimately more than twenty installations were approved and built. Twice that number were rejected or abandoned.
….. and perseverance
Calvin Tomkins, in his New Yorker profile of the Christos, observed: “If you had to name one essential quality that underlies Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s career, which is unique in contemporary art, it would probably be perseverance–unbending, implacable perseverance. They have been willing to wait for years or decades to realise some of their grandiose, ephemeral, absurdly beautiful spectacles, working on two or more at a time until they get the necessary permits to go ahead with one of them.”
Christo and Jeanne-Claude emphasised–repeatedly–that the arduous process of winning support was itself an integral part of the art. Appearing before county commissioners for the Running Fence project in the 1970s, Christo insisted that: “The work is not only the fabric, the steel poles, and the fence. The art project is right now here. Everybody here is part of my work. If they want. If they don’t want. Anyway, they are part of the work. Instead to have coloured and white. They are integral part of making that art. . . It is a very deep political, social, economic experience I live right now with everybody here. And it is nothing involved with the make-believe. That appeal was not staged by me. We have emotion and fear. But that is, of course, part of the project.”
The meetings always drew people loudly opposed to their projects, some of whom may have resented being conscripted into the process. These gatherings were like “watering holes for grievances,” was an observation. People’s reasons for opposing the projects were varied, but the depth of their hostility was a common element. The presence of reporters and camera crews heightened the drama. The question for the Christos was how to convince, mollify, assuage, neutralise, and/or overcome the opposition.
…… and money
Then there was the matter of money. Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s projects typically cost millions of dollars, funds that some people believed would be better spent on education, public health, and other social programs. The fact was that Christo and Jeanne-Claude never sought public funds or accepted commissions. Instead, they covered the costs themselves, using proceeds from lines of credit and the sale of Christo’s sketches and plans. Over the years the success of their public projects enhanced the value of their stock of private work. In turn, the increased value enabled them to fund even more ambitious projects going forward. Many simply refused to believe that Christo and Jeanne-Claude would do what they claimed–pay all the costs themselves–simply for the joy of doing it. More than once Christo himself said, “The great power of the projects is that they are absolutely irrational. That drives people berserk. First, because they think it’s not true. They think we have some hidden resources, that we’re lying. Secondly, if it is true, that it is almost imbecile, stupid, impossible.” The challenge for Christo and Jeanne-Claude was responding to deeply felt objections coming from different quarters. The other non-negotiable issue–paying for access to a site they wanted–came up in that project. They almost always refused to do so, even when their arms were twisted. At a hearing one of the County Commissioners declared, “I can’t overcome my own personal feeling that the project is conceptually offensive. That it’s exploitative of something that I regard as beautiful, as sacrosanct in its natural form”. Maybe that sentiment was sincere; maybe it was just intended as a bargaining chip. During a break, he spoke with Jeanne-Claude and her lawyer, asking them to make a “proffer,” a contribution to the county. Jeanne-Claude said no, they never do that. She was so forceful that the Commissioner admitted that he felt uncomfortable making the demand, saying, “There is a sense of blackmail about it”. But he persisted with an ask for $250,000, which Jeanne-Claude flatly rejected.
That exchange didn’t lead to a deadlock, however. Instead, she opened the door to agreement by suggesting that the county could make money selling tote bags and other goods depicting images of their installation. All that revenue would go to the county; none to the artists. She also agreed to cover the cost of removing trash that been washed up on the island–forty tons of it, as it turned out–and she guaranteed a full clean-up when the installation was dismantled- which was always their practice. These proposals opened up an elegant, value-creating solution and preserved the Christos’ principle of not paying for access, at least not directly, and probably saved face for the Commissioner, as well. Forging relationships takes time, especially between people with markedly different backgrounds and aspirations. Although Christo and Jeanne-Claude would not pay tribute to public officials, they apparently weren’t averse to investing materially to forge relationships with constituents who might sway the regulatory boards.
Other local supporters felt kinship with the artists. At that same decisive hearing was Mrs.George Michelson from Petaluma, a farmer’s wife as she introduced herself, straight from central casting. Speaking in favour of the project, she said: “The fence does go through our property. We welcome it. There was one thing said about art being temporal. Some of the meals I prepare aren’t much. The rest of you can all say that, too. But sometimes I go to a lot of work to prepare a meal that I think is art. It’s a masterpiece. And what happens? It gets eaten up and disappears, and everybody forgets! “She got loud cheers and laughter. After years of work, Christo and Jeanne-Claude had become part of the community. Calling for a vote, the board chair said: “I am convinced that this project will create, of course, no environmental harm. We have the permission by the ranchers. We have benefits bestowed not only on the local ranchers upon whose land it goes, but much needed jobs for the county. Thank you, gentlemen. Call the roll,please. The crowd burst into applause. Jeanne-Claude turned to a person next to her, her eyes first full of surprise and then, exaltation. Only then did Christo start to smile, the last person in the room to realize that at long last they had won.
Twenty-five years later the Smithsonian American Art Museum hosted a retrospective that included screening a new documentary capturing how Running Fence had come to be remembered. Looking back almost everyone loved the installation and treasured their friendship with Christo and Jeanne-Claude. The controversy was all but forgotten. The only dissenters were some local artists still miffed that outsiders got all the attention. The Christos also accepted the fact that they didn’t need to please everybody. Having opposition made for great theatre. They could cast themselves as generous, daring, and valiant, while painting their adversaries as narrow-minded and mean-spirited. That, in turn, enabled them to express themselves even more forcefully. As the documentaries confirm repeatedly, they knew how to perform on the public stage and how to talk, very differently, in private conversations.
The deeper lesson
Christo and Jeanne-Claude offer a rare model for creative independence:
• Creative freedom depends on financial independence.
• Big visions require long-term perseverance.
• Cultural change is built through real relationships, not marketing funnels.
• Institutions can be bypassed when trust networks are built instead.
Their art was temporary by design.
Their approach to freedom, relationships, and self-funded creativity was anything but.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have shown us what happens, what we can achieve when we let go of the constraints that bind us, and embrace our very best ideas. They show us the power of art to change our lives. They show us what it means to live completely freely, in debt to no patron, no sponsor, no ideology, and really recognising no authority in our lives beyond our own moral compass and personal vision.
Catherine Butler is an independent researcher entrepreneur. Christo and Jeanne-Claude's alternative business model for funding artworks is taught at Harvard Business School: The Art of the Entrepreneur.
BY CATHERINE BUTLER
Artist duo Christo and Jeanne-Claude built a radical creative and business model around one non-negotiable principle: total independence. To protect their creative freedom, they rejected the traditional artist–gallery system and refused patrons, sponsors, grants, or public funding. Every monumental, temporary, installation was self-funded.
After initial support from Jeanne-Claude’s family, they quickly became a fully independent business. Christo was the visionary creator; Jeanne-Claude the organiser and operational force behind turning ideas into reality. Together, they founded the CVJ Corporation in the United States to manage sales, logistics, and legal matters. Crucially, they chose direct relationships over institutional marketing.
No gallery representation, no intermediaries–only personal relationships with dealers, collectors, institutions, engineers, officials, landowners, and communities. When needed, they created local subsidiaries to execute projects on the ground. Their work advanced through trust, persistence, and face-to-face persuasion, not brand campaigns.
Entrepreneurs in spirit – and in practice. They embodied entrepreneurship: bold vision, defiance of convention, resilience in the face of rejection, and an uncompromising need for freedom. Yet they were not typical entrepreneurs. As avant-garde artists, they reshaped the public art market, recycled materials, restored sites, and treated the entire process–permissions, negotiations, logistics–as part of the artwork itself.
How they paid for the impossible.
Their rule was simple: “If you draw it, you can pay for it.” They funded multi-million-euro projects by selling Christo’s preparatory drawings, collages, scale models, and earlier works–selling directly to collectors and museums. They used bank credit when needed and generated income through books, films, and authorized photography. Not a penny came from public funding, patrons, or sponsors. Even L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped was funded entirely through artwork sales, shielding it from the usual “taxpayer money” criticism.
Negotiation, not marketing. They did not “launch campaigns.” They built coalitions. Their work came to life through years of conversations with landowners, civil servants, engineers, neighbours, journalists, and critics. They refused to dilute their vision, but they invested heavily in relationships–listening, persuading, returning again and again. This relational labour was as essential as the physical installation. It was not negotiation in the familiar transactional sense of trading one thing for another. Rather it was a relational process, a mix of courtship, alliance-building, and sometimes it seemed, also picking fights.
Some things take time ….
By design, their physical art was visible only briefly. The Gates in New York were up for just sixteen days and then, quickly dismantled. In that sense their art was transitory. Yet the genesis of that project was almost three decades earlier, when the pair first approached municipal authorities for permission to install their work in Central Park. Over that period, there were countless public hearings and private meetings with both supporters and opponents. Other projects similarly took years to reach fruition. Ultimately more than twenty installations were approved and built. Twice that number were rejected or abandoned.
….. and perseverance
Calvin Tomkins, in his New Yorker profile of the Christos, observed: “If you had to name one essential quality that underlies Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s career, which is unique in contemporary art, it would probably be perseverance–unbending, implacable perseverance. They have been willing to wait for years or decades to realise some of their grandiose, ephemeral, absurdly beautiful spectacles, working on two or more at a time until they get the necessary permits to go ahead with one of them.”
Christo and Jeanne-Claude emphasised–repeatedly–that the arduous process of winning support was itself an integral part of the art. Appearing before county commissioners for the Running Fence project in the 1970s, Christo insisted that: “The work is not only the fabric, the steel poles, and the fence. The art project is right now here. Everybody here is part of my work. If they want. If they don’t want. Anyway, they are part of the work. Instead to have coloured and white. They are integral part of making that art. . . It is a very deep political, social, economic experience I live right now with everybody here. And it is nothing involved with the make-believe. That appeal was not staged by me. We have emotion and fear. But that is, of course, part of the project.”
The meetings always drew people loudly opposed to their projects, some of whom may have resented being conscripted into the process. These gatherings were like “watering holes for grievances,” was an observation. People’s reasons for opposing the projects were varied, but the depth of their hostility was a common element. The presence of reporters and camera crews heightened the drama. The question for the Christos was how to convince, mollify, assuage, neutralise, and/or overcome the opposition.
…… and money
Then there was the matter of money. Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s projects typically cost millions of dollars, funds that some people believed would be better spent on education, public health, and other social programs. The fact was that Christo and Jeanne-Claude never sought public funds or accepted commissions. Instead, they covered the costs themselves, using proceeds from lines of credit and the sale of Christo’s sketches and plans. Over the years the success of their public projects enhanced the value of their stock of private work. In turn, the increased value enabled them to fund even more ambitious projects going forward. Many simply refused to believe that Christo and Jeanne-Claude would do what they claimed–pay all the costs themselves–simply for the joy of doing it. More than once Christo himself said, “The great power of the projects is that they are absolutely irrational. That drives people berserk. First, because they think it’s not true. They think we have some hidden resources, that we’re lying. Secondly, if it is true, that it is almost imbecile, stupid, impossible.” The challenge for Christo and Jeanne-Claude was responding to deeply felt objections coming from different quarters. The other non-negotiable issue–paying for access to a site they wanted–came up in that project. They almost always refused to do so, even when their arms were twisted. At a hearing one of the County Commissioners declared, “I can’t overcome my own personal feeling that the project is conceptually offensive. That it’s exploitative of something that I regard as beautiful, as sacrosanct in its natural form”. Maybe that sentiment was sincere; maybe it was just intended as a bargaining chip. During a break, he spoke with Jeanne-Claude and her lawyer, asking them to make a “proffer,” a contribution to the county. Jeanne-Claude said no, they never do that. She was so forceful that the Commissioner admitted that he felt uncomfortable making the demand, saying, “There is a sense of blackmail about it”. But he persisted with an ask for $250,000, which Jeanne-Claude flatly rejected.
That exchange didn’t lead to a deadlock, however. Instead, she opened the door to agreement by suggesting that the county could make money selling tote bags and other goods depicting images of their installation. All that revenue would go to the county; none to the artists. She also agreed to cover the cost of removing trash that been washed up on the island–forty tons of it, as it turned out–and she guaranteed a full clean-up when the installation was dismantled- which was always their practice. These proposals opened up an elegant, value-creating solution and preserved the Christos’ principle of not paying for access, at least not directly, and probably saved face for the Commissioner, as well. Forging relationships takes time, especially between people with markedly different backgrounds and aspirations. Although Christo and Jeanne-Claude would not pay tribute to public officials, they apparently weren’t averse to investing materially to forge relationships with constituents who might sway the regulatory boards.
Other local supporters felt kinship with the artists. At that same decisive hearing was Mrs.George Michelson from Petaluma, a farmer’s wife as she introduced herself, straight from central casting. Speaking in favour of the project, she said: “The fence does go through our property. We welcome it. There was one thing said about art being temporal. Some of the meals I prepare aren’t much. The rest of you can all say that, too. But sometimes I go to a lot of work to prepare a meal that I think is art. It’s a masterpiece. And what happens? It gets eaten up and disappears, and everybody forgets! “She got loud cheers and laughter. After years of work, Christo and Jeanne-Claude had become part of the community. Calling for a vote, the board chair said: “I am convinced that this project will create, of course, no environmental harm. We have the permission by the ranchers. We have benefits bestowed not only on the local ranchers upon whose land it goes, but much needed jobs for the county. Thank you, gentlemen. Call the roll,please. The crowd burst into applause. Jeanne-Claude turned to a person next to her, her eyes first full of surprise and then, exaltation. Only then did Christo start to smile, the last person in the room to realize that at long last they had won.
Twenty-five years later the Smithsonian American Art Museum hosted a retrospective that included screening a new documentary capturing how Running Fence had come to be remembered. Looking back almost everyone loved the installation and treasured their friendship with Christo and Jeanne-Claude. The controversy was all but forgotten. The only dissenters were some local artists still miffed that outsiders got all the attention. The Christos also accepted the fact that they didn’t need to please everybody. Having opposition made for great theatre. They could cast themselves as generous, daring, and valiant, while painting their adversaries as narrow-minded and mean-spirited. That, in turn, enabled them to express themselves even more forcefully. As the documentaries confirm repeatedly, they knew how to perform on the public stage and how to talk, very differently, in private conversations.
The deeper lesson
Christo and Jeanne-Claude offer a rare model for creative independence:
• Creative freedom depends on financial independence.
• Big visions require long-term perseverance.
• Cultural change is built through real relationships, not marketing funnels.
• Institutions can be bypassed when trust networks are built instead.
Their art was temporary by design.
Their approach to freedom, relationships, and self-funded creativity was anything but.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have shown us what happens, what we can achieve when we let go of the constraints that bind us, and embrace our very best ideas. They show us the power of art to change our lives. They show us what it means to live completely freely, in debt to no patron, no sponsor, no ideology, and really recognising no authority in our lives beyond our own moral compass and personal vision.
Artist duo Christo and Jeanne-Claude built a radical creative and business model around one non-negotiable principle: total independence. To protect their creative freedom, they rejected the traditional artist–gallery system and refused patrons, sponsors, grants, or public funding. Every monumental, temporary, installation was self-funded.
After initial support from Jeanne-Claude’s family, they quickly became a fully independent business. Christo was the visionary creator; Jeanne-Claude the organiser and operational force behind turning ideas into reality. Together, they founded the CVJ Corporation in the United States to manage sales, logistics, and legal matters. Crucially, they chose direct relationships over institutional marketing.
No gallery representation, no intermediaries–only personal relationships with dealers, collectors, institutions, engineers, officials, landowners, and communities. When needed, they created local subsidiaries to execute projects on the ground. Their work advanced through trust, persistence, and face-to-face persuasion, not brand campaigns.
Entrepreneurs in spirit – and in practice. They embodied entrepreneurship: bold vision, defiance of convention, resilience in the face of rejection, and an uncompromising need for freedom. Yet they were not typical entrepreneurs. As avant-garde artists, they reshaped the public art market, recycled materials, restored sites, and treated the entire process–permissions, negotiations, logistics–as part of the artwork itself.
How they paid for the impossible.
Their rule was simple: “If you draw it, you can pay for it.” They funded multi-million-euro projects by selling Christo’s preparatory drawings, collages, scale models, and earlier works–selling directly to collectors and museums. They used bank credit when needed and generated income through books, films, and authorized photography. Not a penny came from public funding, patrons, or sponsors. Even L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped was funded entirely through artwork sales, shielding it from the usual “taxpayer money” criticism.
Negotiation, not marketing. They did not “launch campaigns.” They built coalitions. Their work came to life through years of conversations with landowners, civil servants, engineers, neighbours, journalists, and critics. They refused to dilute their vision, but they invested heavily in relationships–listening, persuading, returning again and again. This relational labour was as essential as the physical installation. It was not negotiation in the familiar transactional sense of trading one thing for another. Rather it was a relational process, a mix of courtship, alliance-building, and sometimes it seemed, also picking fights.
Some things take time ….
By design, their physical art was visible only briefly. The Gates in New York were up for just sixteen days and then, quickly dismantled. In that sense their art was transitory. Yet the genesis of that project was almost three decades earlier, when the pair first approached municipal authorities for permission to install their work in Central Park. Over that period, there were countless public hearings and private meetings with both supporters and opponents. Other projects similarly took years to reach fruition. Ultimately more than twenty installations were approved and built. Twice that number were rejected or abandoned.
….. and perseverance
Calvin Tomkins, in his New Yorker profile of the Christos, observed: “If you had to name one essential quality that underlies Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s career, which is unique in contemporary art, it would probably be perseverance–unbending, implacable perseverance. They have been willing to wait for years or decades to realise some of their grandiose, ephemeral, absurdly beautiful spectacles, working on two or more at a time until they get the necessary permits to go ahead with one of them.”
Christo and Jeanne-Claude emphasised–repeatedly–that the arduous process of winning support was itself an integral part of the art. Appearing before county commissioners for the Running Fence project in the 1970s, Christo insisted that: “The work is not only the fabric, the steel poles, and the fence. The art project is right now here. Everybody here is part of my work. If they want. If they don’t want. Anyway, they are part of the work. Instead to have coloured and white. They are integral part of making that art. . . It is a very deep political, social, economic experience I live right now with everybody here. And it is nothing involved with the make-believe. That appeal was not staged by me. We have emotion and fear. But that is, of course, part of the project.”
The meetings always drew people loudly opposed to their projects, some of whom may have resented being conscripted into the process. These gatherings were like “watering holes for grievances,” was an observation. People’s reasons for opposing the projects were varied, but the depth of their hostility was a common element. The presence of reporters and camera crews heightened the drama. The question for the Christos was how to convince, mollify, assuage, neutralise, and/or overcome the opposition.
…… and money
Then there was the matter of money. Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s projects typically cost millions of dollars, funds that some people believed would be better spent on education, public health, and other social programs. The fact was that Christo and Jeanne-Claude never sought public funds or accepted commissions. Instead, they covered the costs themselves, using proceeds from lines of credit and the sale of Christo’s sketches and plans. Over the years the success of their public projects enhanced the value of their stock of private work. In turn, the increased value enabled them to fund even more ambitious projects going forward. Many simply refused to believe that Christo and Jeanne-Claude would do what they claimed–pay all the costs themselves–simply for the joy of doing it. More than once Christo himself said, “The great power of the projects is that they are absolutely irrational. That drives people berserk. First, because they think it’s not true. They think we have some hidden resources, that we’re lying. Secondly, if it is true, that it is almost imbecile, stupid, impossible.” The challenge for Christo and Jeanne-Claude was responding to deeply felt objections coming from different quarters. The other non-negotiable issue–paying for access to a site they wanted–came up in that project. They almost always refused to do so, even when their arms were twisted. At a hearing one of the County Commissioners declared, “I can’t overcome my own personal feeling that the project is conceptually offensive. That it’s exploitative of something that I regard as beautiful, as sacrosanct in its natural form”. Maybe that sentiment was sincere; maybe it was just intended as a bargaining chip. During a break, he spoke with Jeanne-Claude and her lawyer, asking them to make a “proffer,” a contribution to the county. Jeanne-Claude said no, they never do that. She was so forceful that the Commissioner admitted that he felt uncomfortable making the demand, saying, “There is a sense of blackmail about it”. But he persisted with an ask for $250,000, which Jeanne-Claude flatly rejected.
That exchange didn’t lead to a deadlock, however. Instead, she opened the door to agreement by suggesting that the county could make money selling tote bags and other goods depicting images of their installation. All that revenue would go to the county; none to the artists. She also agreed to cover the cost of removing trash that been washed up on the island–forty tons of it, as it turned out–and she guaranteed a full clean-up when the installation was dismantled- which was always their practice. These proposals opened up an elegant, value-creating solution and preserved the Christos’ principle of not paying for access, at least not directly, and probably saved face for the Commissioner, as well. Forging relationships takes time, especially between people with markedly different backgrounds and aspirations. Although Christo and Jeanne-Claude would not pay tribute to public officials, they apparently weren’t averse to investing materially to forge relationships with constituents who might sway the regulatory boards.
Other local supporters felt kinship with the artists. At that same decisive hearing was Mrs.George Michelson from Petaluma, a farmer’s wife as she introduced herself, straight from central casting. Speaking in favour of the project, she said: “The fence does go through our property. We welcome it. There was one thing said about art being temporal. Some of the meals I prepare aren’t much. The rest of you can all say that, too. But sometimes I go to a lot of work to prepare a meal that I think is art. It’s a masterpiece. And what happens? It gets eaten up and disappears, and everybody forgets! “She got loud cheers and laughter. After years of work, Christo and Jeanne-Claude had become part of the community. Calling for a vote, the board chair said: “I am convinced that this project will create, of course, no environmental harm. We have the permission by the ranchers. We have benefits bestowed not only on the local ranchers upon whose land it goes, but much needed jobs for the county. Thank you, gentlemen. Call the roll,please. The crowd burst into applause. Jeanne-Claude turned to a person next to her, her eyes first full of surprise and then, exaltation. Only then did Christo start to smile, the last person in the room to realize that at long last they had won.
Twenty-five years later the Smithsonian American Art Museum hosted a retrospective that included screening a new documentary capturing how Running Fence had come to be remembered. Looking back almost everyone loved the installation and treasured their friendship with Christo and Jeanne-Claude. The controversy was all but forgotten. The only dissenters were some local artists still miffed that outsiders got all the attention. The Christos also accepted the fact that they didn’t need to please everybody. Having opposition made for great theatre. They could cast themselves as generous, daring, and valiant, while painting their adversaries as narrow-minded and mean-spirited. That, in turn, enabled them to express themselves even more forcefully. As the documentaries confirm repeatedly, they knew how to perform on the public stage and how to talk, very differently, in private conversations.
The deeper lesson
Christo and Jeanne-Claude offer a rare model for creative independence:
• Creative freedom depends on financial independence.
• Big visions require long-term perseverance.
• Cultural change is built through real relationships, not marketing funnels.
• Institutions can be bypassed when trust networks are built instead.
Their art was temporary by design.
Their approach to freedom, relationships, and self-funded creativity was anything but.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have shown us what happens, what we can achieve when we let go of the constraints that bind us, and embrace our very best ideas. They show us the power of art to change our lives. They show us what it means to live completely freely, in debt to no patron, no sponsor, no ideology, and really recognising no authority in our lives beyond our own moral compass and personal vision.
Catherine Butler is an independent researcher entrepreneur. Christo and Jeanne-Claude's alternative business model for funding artworks is taught at Harvard Business School: The Art of the Entrepreneur.
BY CATHERINE BUTLER
Artist duo Christo and Jeanne-Claude built a radical creative and business model around one non-negotiable principle: total independence. To protect their creative freedom, they rejected the traditional artist–gallery system and refused patrons, sponsors, grants, or public funding. Every monumental, temporary, installation was self-funded.
After initial support from Jeanne-Claude’s family, they quickly became a fully independent business. Christo was the visionary creator; Jeanne-Claude the organiser and operational force behind turning ideas into reality. Together, they founded the CVJ Corporation in the United States to manage sales, logistics, and legal matters. Crucially, they chose direct relationships over institutional marketing.
No gallery representation, no intermediaries–only personal relationships with dealers, collectors, institutions, engineers, officials, landowners, and communities. When needed, they created local subsidiaries to execute projects on the ground. Their work advanced through trust, persistence, and face-to-face persuasion, not brand campaigns.
Entrepreneurs in spirit – and in practice. They embodied entrepreneurship: bold vision, defiance of convention, resilience in the face of rejection, and an uncompromising need for freedom. Yet they were not typical entrepreneurs. As avant-garde artists, they reshaped the public art market, recycled materials, restored sites, and treated the entire process–permissions, negotiations, logistics–as part of the artwork itself.
How they paid for the impossible.
Their rule was simple: “If you draw it, you can pay for it.” They funded multi-million-euro projects by selling Christo’s preparatory drawings, collages, scale models, and earlier works–selling directly to collectors and museums. They used bank credit when needed and generated income through books, films, and authorized photography. Not a penny came from public funding, patrons, or sponsors. Even L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped was funded entirely through artwork sales, shielding it from the usual “taxpayer money” criticism.
Negotiation, not marketing. They did not “launch campaigns.” They built coalitions. Their work came to life through years of conversations with landowners, civil servants, engineers, neighbours, journalists, and critics. They refused to dilute their vision, but they invested heavily in relationships–listening, persuading, returning again and again. This relational labour was as essential as the physical installation. It was not negotiation in the familiar transactional sense of trading one thing for another. Rather it was a relational process, a mix of courtship, alliance-building, and sometimes it seemed, also picking fights.
Some things take time ….
By design, their physical art was visible only briefly. The Gates in New York were up for just sixteen days and then, quickly dismantled. In that sense their art was transitory. Yet the genesis of that project was almost three decades earlier, when the pair first approached municipal authorities for permission to install their work in Central Park. Over that period, there were countless public hearings and private meetings with both supporters and opponents. Other projects similarly took years to reach fruition. Ultimately more than twenty installations were approved and built. Twice that number were rejected or abandoned.
….. and perseverance
Calvin Tomkins, in his New Yorker profile of the Christos, observed: “If you had to name one essential quality that underlies Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s career, which is unique in contemporary art, it would probably be perseverance–unbending, implacable perseverance. They have been willing to wait for years or decades to realise some of their grandiose, ephemeral, absurdly beautiful spectacles, working on two or more at a time until they get the necessary permits to go ahead with one of them.”
Christo and Jeanne-Claude emphasised–repeatedly–that the arduous process of winning support was itself an integral part of the art. Appearing before county commissioners for the Running Fence project in the 1970s, Christo insisted that: “The work is not only the fabric, the steel poles, and the fence. The art project is right now here. Everybody here is part of my work. If they want. If they don’t want. Anyway, they are part of the work. Instead to have coloured and white. They are integral part of making that art. . . It is a very deep political, social, economic experience I live right now with everybody here. And it is nothing involved with the make-believe. That appeal was not staged by me. We have emotion and fear. But that is, of course, part of the project.”
The meetings always drew people loudly opposed to their projects, some of whom may have resented being conscripted into the process. These gatherings were like “watering holes for grievances,” was an observation. People’s reasons for opposing the projects were varied, but the depth of their hostility was a common element. The presence of reporters and camera crews heightened the drama. The question for the Christos was how to convince, mollify, assuage, neutralise, and/or overcome the opposition.
…… and money
Then there was the matter of money. Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s projects typically cost millions of dollars, funds that some people believed would be better spent on education, public health, and other social programs. The fact was that Christo and Jeanne-Claude never sought public funds or accepted commissions. Instead, they covered the costs themselves, using proceeds from lines of credit and the sale of Christo’s sketches and plans. Over the years the success of their public projects enhanced the value of their stock of private work. In turn, the increased value enabled them to fund even more ambitious projects going forward. Many simply refused to believe that Christo and Jeanne-Claude would do what they claimed–pay all the costs themselves–simply for the joy of doing it. More than once Christo himself said, “The great power of the projects is that they are absolutely irrational. That drives people berserk. First, because they think it’s not true. They think we have some hidden resources, that we’re lying. Secondly, if it is true, that it is almost imbecile, stupid, impossible.” The challenge for Christo and Jeanne-Claude was responding to deeply felt objections coming from different quarters. The other non-negotiable issue–paying for access to a site they wanted–came up in that project. They almost always refused to do so, even when their arms were twisted. At a hearing one of the County Commissioners declared, “I can’t overcome my own personal feeling that the project is conceptually offensive. That it’s exploitative of something that I regard as beautiful, as sacrosanct in its natural form”. Maybe that sentiment was sincere; maybe it was just intended as a bargaining chip. During a break, he spoke with Jeanne-Claude and her lawyer, asking them to make a “proffer,” a contribution to the county. Jeanne-Claude said no, they never do that. She was so forceful that the Commissioner admitted that he felt uncomfortable making the demand, saying, “There is a sense of blackmail about it”. But he persisted with an ask for $250,000, which Jeanne-Claude flatly rejected.
That exchange didn’t lead to a deadlock, however. Instead, she opened the door to agreement by suggesting that the county could make money selling tote bags and other goods depicting images of their installation. All that revenue would go to the county; none to the artists. She also agreed to cover the cost of removing trash that been washed up on the island–forty tons of it, as it turned out–and she guaranteed a full clean-up when the installation was dismantled- which was always their practice. These proposals opened up an elegant, value-creating solution and preserved the Christos’ principle of not paying for access, at least not directly, and probably saved face for the Commissioner, as well. Forging relationships takes time, especially between people with markedly different backgrounds and aspirations. Although Christo and Jeanne-Claude would not pay tribute to public officials, they apparently weren’t averse to investing materially to forge relationships with constituents who might sway the regulatory boards.
Other local supporters felt kinship with the artists. At that same decisive hearing was Mrs.George Michelson from Petaluma, a farmer’s wife as she introduced herself, straight from central casting. Speaking in favour of the project, she said: “The fence does go through our property. We welcome it. There was one thing said about art being temporal. Some of the meals I prepare aren’t much. The rest of you can all say that, too. But sometimes I go to a lot of work to prepare a meal that I think is art. It’s a masterpiece. And what happens? It gets eaten up and disappears, and everybody forgets! “She got loud cheers and laughter. After years of work, Christo and Jeanne-Claude had become part of the community. Calling for a vote, the board chair said: “I am convinced that this project will create, of course, no environmental harm. We have the permission by the ranchers. We have benefits bestowed not only on the local ranchers upon whose land it goes, but much needed jobs for the county. Thank you, gentlemen. Call the roll,please. The crowd burst into applause. Jeanne-Claude turned to a person next to her, her eyes first full of surprise and then, exaltation. Only then did Christo start to smile, the last person in the room to realize that at long last they had won.
Twenty-five years later the Smithsonian American Art Museum hosted a retrospective that included screening a new documentary capturing how Running Fence had come to be remembered. Looking back almost everyone loved the installation and treasured their friendship with Christo and Jeanne-Claude. The controversy was all but forgotten. The only dissenters were some local artists still miffed that outsiders got all the attention. The Christos also accepted the fact that they didn’t need to please everybody. Having opposition made for great theatre. They could cast themselves as generous, daring, and valiant, while painting their adversaries as narrow-minded and mean-spirited. That, in turn, enabled them to express themselves even more forcefully. As the documentaries confirm repeatedly, they knew how to perform on the public stage and how to talk, very differently, in private conversations.
The deeper lesson
Christo and Jeanne-Claude offer a rare model for creative independence:
• Creative freedom depends on financial independence.
• Big visions require long-term perseverance.
• Cultural change is built through real relationships, not marketing funnels.
• Institutions can be bypassed when trust networks are built instead.
Their art was temporary by design.
Their approach to freedom, relationships, and self-funded creativity was anything but.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have shown us what happens, what we can achieve when we let go of the constraints that bind us, and embrace our very best ideas. They show us the power of art to change our lives. They show us what it means to live completely freely, in debt to no patron, no sponsor, no ideology, and really recognising no authority in our lives beyond our own moral compass and personal vision.
Artist duo Christo and Jeanne-Claude built a radical creative and business model around one non-negotiable principle: total independence. To protect their creative freedom, they rejected the traditional artist–gallery system and refused patrons, sponsors, grants, or public funding. Every monumental, temporary, installation was self-funded.
After initial support from Jeanne-Claude’s family, they quickly became a fully independent business. Christo was the visionary creator; Jeanne-Claude the organiser and operational force behind turning ideas into reality. Together, they founded the CVJ Corporation in the United States to manage sales, logistics, and legal matters. Crucially, they chose direct relationships over institutional marketing.
No gallery representation, no intermediaries–only personal relationships with dealers, collectors, institutions, engineers, officials, landowners, and communities. When needed, they created local subsidiaries to execute projects on the ground. Their work advanced through trust, persistence, and face-to-face persuasion, not brand campaigns.
Entrepreneurs in spirit – and in practice. They embodied entrepreneurship: bold vision, defiance of convention, resilience in the face of rejection, and an uncompromising need for freedom. Yet they were not typical entrepreneurs. As avant-garde artists, they reshaped the public art market, recycled materials, restored sites, and treated the entire process–permissions, negotiations, logistics–as part of the artwork itself.
How they paid for the impossible.
Their rule was simple: “If you draw it, you can pay for it.” They funded multi-million-euro projects by selling Christo’s preparatory drawings, collages, scale models, and earlier works–selling directly to collectors and museums. They used bank credit when needed and generated income through books, films, and authorized photography. Not a penny came from public funding, patrons, or sponsors. Even L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped was funded entirely through artwork sales, shielding it from the usual “taxpayer money” criticism.
Negotiation, not marketing. They did not “launch campaigns.” They built coalitions. Their work came to life through years of conversations with landowners, civil servants, engineers, neighbours, journalists, and critics. They refused to dilute their vision, but they invested heavily in relationships–listening, persuading, returning again and again. This relational labour was as essential as the physical installation. It was not negotiation in the familiar transactional sense of trading one thing for another. Rather it was a relational process, a mix of courtship, alliance-building, and sometimes it seemed, also picking fights.
Some things take time ….
By design, their physical art was visible only briefly. The Gates in New York were up for just sixteen days and then, quickly dismantled. In that sense their art was transitory. Yet the genesis of that project was almost three decades earlier, when the pair first approached municipal authorities for permission to install their work in Central Park. Over that period, there were countless public hearings and private meetings with both supporters and opponents. Other projects similarly took years to reach fruition. Ultimately more than twenty installations were approved and built. Twice that number were rejected or abandoned.
….. and perseverance
Calvin Tomkins, in his New Yorker profile of the Christos, observed: “If you had to name one essential quality that underlies Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s career, which is unique in contemporary art, it would probably be perseverance–unbending, implacable perseverance. They have been willing to wait for years or decades to realise some of their grandiose, ephemeral, absurdly beautiful spectacles, working on two or more at a time until they get the necessary permits to go ahead with one of them.”
Christo and Jeanne-Claude emphasised–repeatedly–that the arduous process of winning support was itself an integral part of the art. Appearing before county commissioners for the Running Fence project in the 1970s, Christo insisted that: “The work is not only the fabric, the steel poles, and the fence. The art project is right now here. Everybody here is part of my work. If they want. If they don’t want. Anyway, they are part of the work. Instead to have coloured and white. They are integral part of making that art. . . It is a very deep political, social, economic experience I live right now with everybody here. And it is nothing involved with the make-believe. That appeal was not staged by me. We have emotion and fear. But that is, of course, part of the project.”
The meetings always drew people loudly opposed to their projects, some of whom may have resented being conscripted into the process. These gatherings were like “watering holes for grievances,” was an observation. People’s reasons for opposing the projects were varied, but the depth of their hostility was a common element. The presence of reporters and camera crews heightened the drama. The question for the Christos was how to convince, mollify, assuage, neutralise, and/or overcome the opposition.
…… and money
Then there was the matter of money. Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s projects typically cost millions of dollars, funds that some people believed would be better spent on education, public health, and other social programs. The fact was that Christo and Jeanne-Claude never sought public funds or accepted commissions. Instead, they covered the costs themselves, using proceeds from lines of credit and the sale of Christo’s sketches and plans. Over the years the success of their public projects enhanced the value of their stock of private work. In turn, the increased value enabled them to fund even more ambitious projects going forward. Many simply refused to believe that Christo and Jeanne-Claude would do what they claimed–pay all the costs themselves–simply for the joy of doing it. More than once Christo himself said, “The great power of the projects is that they are absolutely irrational. That drives people berserk. First, because they think it’s not true. They think we have some hidden resources, that we’re lying. Secondly, if it is true, that it is almost imbecile, stupid, impossible.” The challenge for Christo and Jeanne-Claude was responding to deeply felt objections coming from different quarters. The other non-negotiable issue–paying for access to a site they wanted–came up in that project. They almost always refused to do so, even when their arms were twisted. At a hearing one of the County Commissioners declared, “I can’t overcome my own personal feeling that the project is conceptually offensive. That it’s exploitative of something that I regard as beautiful, as sacrosanct in its natural form”. Maybe that sentiment was sincere; maybe it was just intended as a bargaining chip. During a break, he spoke with Jeanne-Claude and her lawyer, asking them to make a “proffer,” a contribution to the county. Jeanne-Claude said no, they never do that. She was so forceful that the Commissioner admitted that he felt uncomfortable making the demand, saying, “There is a sense of blackmail about it”. But he persisted with an ask for $250,000, which Jeanne-Claude flatly rejected.
That exchange didn’t lead to a deadlock, however. Instead, she opened the door to agreement by suggesting that the county could make money selling tote bags and other goods depicting images of their installation. All that revenue would go to the county; none to the artists. She also agreed to cover the cost of removing trash that been washed up on the island–forty tons of it, as it turned out–and she guaranteed a full clean-up when the installation was dismantled- which was always their practice. These proposals opened up an elegant, value-creating solution and preserved the Christos’ principle of not paying for access, at least not directly, and probably saved face for the Commissioner, as well. Forging relationships takes time, especially between people with markedly different backgrounds and aspirations. Although Christo and Jeanne-Claude would not pay tribute to public officials, they apparently weren’t averse to investing materially to forge relationships with constituents who might sway the regulatory boards.
Other local supporters felt kinship with the artists. At that same decisive hearing was Mrs.George Michelson from Petaluma, a farmer’s wife as she introduced herself, straight from central casting. Speaking in favour of the project, she said: “The fence does go through our property. We welcome it. There was one thing said about art being temporal. Some of the meals I prepare aren’t much. The rest of you can all say that, too. But sometimes I go to a lot of work to prepare a meal that I think is art. It’s a masterpiece. And what happens? It gets eaten up and disappears, and everybody forgets! “She got loud cheers and laughter. After years of work, Christo and Jeanne-Claude had become part of the community. Calling for a vote, the board chair said: “I am convinced that this project will create, of course, no environmental harm. We have the permission by the ranchers. We have benefits bestowed not only on the local ranchers upon whose land it goes, but much needed jobs for the county. Thank you, gentlemen. Call the roll,please. The crowd burst into applause. Jeanne-Claude turned to a person next to her, her eyes first full of surprise and then, exaltation. Only then did Christo start to smile, the last person in the room to realize that at long last they had won.
Twenty-five years later the Smithsonian American Art Museum hosted a retrospective that included screening a new documentary capturing how Running Fence had come to be remembered. Looking back almost everyone loved the installation and treasured their friendship with Christo and Jeanne-Claude. The controversy was all but forgotten. The only dissenters were some local artists still miffed that outsiders got all the attention. The Christos also accepted the fact that they didn’t need to please everybody. Having opposition made for great theatre. They could cast themselves as generous, daring, and valiant, while painting their adversaries as narrow-minded and mean-spirited. That, in turn, enabled them to express themselves even more forcefully. As the documentaries confirm repeatedly, they knew how to perform on the public stage and how to talk, very differently, in private conversations.
The deeper lesson
Christo and Jeanne-Claude offer a rare model for creative independence:
• Creative freedom depends on financial independence.
• Big visions require long-term perseverance.
• Cultural change is built through real relationships, not marketing funnels.
• Institutions can be bypassed when trust networks are built instead.
Their art was temporary by design.
Their approach to freedom, relationships, and self-funded creativity was anything but.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have shown us what happens, what we can achieve when we let go of the constraints that bind us, and embrace our very best ideas. They show us the power of art to change our lives. They show us what it means to live completely freely, in debt to no patron, no sponsor, no ideology, and really recognising no authority in our lives beyond our own moral compass and personal vision.
Catherine Butler is an independent researcher entrepreneur. Christo and Jeanne-Claude's alternative business model for funding artworks is taught at Harvard Business School: The Art of the Entrepreneur.
BY CATHERINE BUTLER
Artist duo Christo and Jeanne-Claude built a radical creative and business model around one non-negotiable principle: total independence. To protect their creative freedom, they rejected the traditional artist–gallery system and refused patrons, sponsors, grants, or public funding. Every monumental, temporary, installation was self-funded.
After initial support from Jeanne-Claude’s family, they quickly became a fully independent business. Christo was the visionary creator; Jeanne-Claude the organiser and operational force behind turning ideas into reality. Together, they founded the CVJ Corporation in the United States to manage sales, logistics, and legal matters. Crucially, they chose direct relationships over institutional marketing.
No gallery representation, no intermediaries–only personal relationships with dealers, collectors, institutions, engineers, officials, landowners, and communities. When needed, they created local subsidiaries to execute projects on the ground. Their work advanced through trust, persistence, and face-to-face persuasion, not brand campaigns.
Entrepreneurs in spirit – and in practice. They embodied entrepreneurship: bold vision, defiance of convention, resilience in the face of rejection, and an uncompromising need for freedom. Yet they were not typical entrepreneurs. As avant-garde artists, they reshaped the public art market, recycled materials, restored sites, and treated the entire process–permissions, negotiations, logistics–as part of the artwork itself.
How they paid for the impossible.
Their rule was simple: “If you draw it, you can pay for it.” They funded multi-million-euro projects by selling Christo’s preparatory drawings, collages, scale models, and earlier works–selling directly to collectors and museums. They used bank credit when needed and generated income through books, films, and authorized photography. Not a penny came from public funding, patrons, or sponsors. Even L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped was funded entirely through artwork sales, shielding it from the usual “taxpayer money” criticism.
Negotiation, not marketing. They did not “launch campaigns.” They built coalitions. Their work came to life through years of conversations with landowners, civil servants, engineers, neighbours, journalists, and critics. They refused to dilute their vision, but they invested heavily in relationships–listening, persuading, returning again and again. This relational labour was as essential as the physical installation. It was not negotiation in the familiar transactional sense of trading one thing for another. Rather it was a relational process, a mix of courtship, alliance-building, and sometimes it seemed, also picking fights.
Some things take time ….
By design, their physical art was visible only briefly. The Gates in New York were up for just sixteen days and then, quickly dismantled. In that sense their art was transitory. Yet the genesis of that project was almost three decades earlier, when the pair first approached municipal authorities for permission to install their work in Central Park. Over that period, there were countless public hearings and private meetings with both supporters and opponents. Other projects similarly took years to reach fruition. Ultimately more than twenty installations were approved and built. Twice that number were rejected or abandoned.
….. and perseverance
Calvin Tomkins, in his New Yorker profile of the Christos, observed: “If you had to name one essential quality that underlies Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s career, which is unique in contemporary art, it would probably be perseverance–unbending, implacable perseverance. They have been willing to wait for years or decades to realise some of their grandiose, ephemeral, absurdly beautiful spectacles, working on two or more at a time until they get the necessary permits to go ahead with one of them.”
Christo and Jeanne-Claude emphasised–repeatedly–that the arduous process of winning support was itself an integral part of the art. Appearing before county commissioners for the Running Fence project in the 1970s, Christo insisted that: “The work is not only the fabric, the steel poles, and the fence. The art project is right now here. Everybody here is part of my work. If they want. If they don’t want. Anyway, they are part of the work. Instead to have coloured and white. They are integral part of making that art. . . It is a very deep political, social, economic experience I live right now with everybody here. And it is nothing involved with the make-believe. That appeal was not staged by me. We have emotion and fear. But that is, of course, part of the project.”
The meetings always drew people loudly opposed to their projects, some of whom may have resented being conscripted into the process. These gatherings were like “watering holes for grievances,” was an observation. People’s reasons for opposing the projects were varied, but the depth of their hostility was a common element. The presence of reporters and camera crews heightened the drama. The question for the Christos was how to convince, mollify, assuage, neutralise, and/or overcome the opposition.
…… and money
Then there was the matter of money. Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s projects typically cost millions of dollars, funds that some people believed would be better spent on education, public health, and other social programs. The fact was that Christo and Jeanne-Claude never sought public funds or accepted commissions. Instead, they covered the costs themselves, using proceeds from lines of credit and the sale of Christo’s sketches and plans. Over the years the success of their public projects enhanced the value of their stock of private work. In turn, the increased value enabled them to fund even more ambitious projects going forward. Many simply refused to believe that Christo and Jeanne-Claude would do what they claimed–pay all the costs themselves–simply for the joy of doing it. More than once Christo himself said, “The great power of the projects is that they are absolutely irrational. That drives people berserk. First, because they think it’s not true. They think we have some hidden resources, that we’re lying. Secondly, if it is true, that it is almost imbecile, stupid, impossible.” The challenge for Christo and Jeanne-Claude was responding to deeply felt objections coming from different quarters. The other non-negotiable issue–paying for access to a site they wanted–came up in that project. They almost always refused to do so, even when their arms were twisted. At a hearing one of the County Commissioners declared, “I can’t overcome my own personal feeling that the project is conceptually offensive. That it’s exploitative of something that I regard as beautiful, as sacrosanct in its natural form”. Maybe that sentiment was sincere; maybe it was just intended as a bargaining chip. During a break, he spoke with Jeanne-Claude and her lawyer, asking them to make a “proffer,” a contribution to the county. Jeanne-Claude said no, they never do that. She was so forceful that the Commissioner admitted that he felt uncomfortable making the demand, saying, “There is a sense of blackmail about it”. But he persisted with an ask for $250,000, which Jeanne-Claude flatly rejected.
That exchange didn’t lead to a deadlock, however. Instead, she opened the door to agreement by suggesting that the county could make money selling tote bags and other goods depicting images of their installation. All that revenue would go to the county; none to the artists. She also agreed to cover the cost of removing trash that been washed up on the island–forty tons of it, as it turned out–and she guaranteed a full clean-up when the installation was dismantled- which was always their practice. These proposals opened up an elegant, value-creating solution and preserved the Christos’ principle of not paying for access, at least not directly, and probably saved face for the Commissioner, as well. Forging relationships takes time, especially between people with markedly different backgrounds and aspirations. Although Christo and Jeanne-Claude would not pay tribute to public officials, they apparently weren’t averse to investing materially to forge relationships with constituents who might sway the regulatory boards.
Other local supporters felt kinship with the artists. At that same decisive hearing was Mrs.George Michelson from Petaluma, a farmer’s wife as she introduced herself, straight from central casting. Speaking in favour of the project, she said: “The fence does go through our property. We welcome it. There was one thing said about art being temporal. Some of the meals I prepare aren’t much. The rest of you can all say that, too. But sometimes I go to a lot of work to prepare a meal that I think is art. It’s a masterpiece. And what happens? It gets eaten up and disappears, and everybody forgets! “She got loud cheers and laughter. After years of work, Christo and Jeanne-Claude had become part of the community. Calling for a vote, the board chair said: “I am convinced that this project will create, of course, no environmental harm. We have the permission by the ranchers. We have benefits bestowed not only on the local ranchers upon whose land it goes, but much needed jobs for the county. Thank you, gentlemen. Call the roll,please. The crowd burst into applause. Jeanne-Claude turned to a person next to her, her eyes first full of surprise and then, exaltation. Only then did Christo start to smile, the last person in the room to realize that at long last they had won.
Twenty-five years later the Smithsonian American Art Museum hosted a retrospective that included screening a new documentary capturing how Running Fence had come to be remembered. Looking back almost everyone loved the installation and treasured their friendship with Christo and Jeanne-Claude. The controversy was all but forgotten. The only dissenters were some local artists still miffed that outsiders got all the attention. The Christos also accepted the fact that they didn’t need to please everybody. Having opposition made for great theatre. They could cast themselves as generous, daring, and valiant, while painting their adversaries as narrow-minded and mean-spirited. That, in turn, enabled them to express themselves even more forcefully. As the documentaries confirm repeatedly, they knew how to perform on the public stage and how to talk, very differently, in private conversations.
The deeper lesson
Christo and Jeanne-Claude offer a rare model for creative independence:
• Creative freedom depends on financial independence.
• Big visions require long-term perseverance.
• Cultural change is built through real relationships, not marketing funnels.
• Institutions can be bypassed when trust networks are built instead.
Their art was temporary by design.
Their approach to freedom, relationships, and self-funded creativity was anything but.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have shown us what happens, what we can achieve when we let go of the constraints that bind us, and embrace our very best ideas. They show us the power of art to change our lives. They show us what it means to live completely freely, in debt to no patron, no sponsor, no ideology, and really recognising no authority in our lives beyond our own moral compass and personal vision.
Artist duo Christo and Jeanne-Claude built a radical creative and business model around one non-negotiable principle: total independence. To protect their creative freedom, they rejected the traditional artist–gallery system and refused patrons, sponsors, grants, or public funding. Every monumental, temporary, installation was self-funded.
After initial support from Jeanne-Claude’s family, they quickly became a fully independent business. Christo was the visionary creator; Jeanne-Claude the organiser and operational force behind turning ideas into reality. Together, they founded the CVJ Corporation in the United States to manage sales, logistics, and legal matters. Crucially, they chose direct relationships over institutional marketing.
No gallery representation, no intermediaries–only personal relationships with dealers, collectors, institutions, engineers, officials, landowners, and communities. When needed, they created local subsidiaries to execute projects on the ground. Their work advanced through trust, persistence, and face-to-face persuasion, not brand campaigns.
Entrepreneurs in spirit – and in practice. They embodied entrepreneurship: bold vision, defiance of convention, resilience in the face of rejection, and an uncompromising need for freedom. Yet they were not typical entrepreneurs. As avant-garde artists, they reshaped the public art market, recycled materials, restored sites, and treated the entire process–permissions, negotiations, logistics–as part of the artwork itself.
How they paid for the impossible.
Their rule was simple: “If you draw it, you can pay for it.” They funded multi-million-euro projects by selling Christo’s preparatory drawings, collages, scale models, and earlier works–selling directly to collectors and museums. They used bank credit when needed and generated income through books, films, and authorized photography. Not a penny came from public funding, patrons, or sponsors. Even L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped was funded entirely through artwork sales, shielding it from the usual “taxpayer money” criticism.
Negotiation, not marketing. They did not “launch campaigns.” They built coalitions. Their work came to life through years of conversations with landowners, civil servants, engineers, neighbours, journalists, and critics. They refused to dilute their vision, but they invested heavily in relationships–listening, persuading, returning again and again. This relational labour was as essential as the physical installation. It was not negotiation in the familiar transactional sense of trading one thing for another. Rather it was a relational process, a mix of courtship, alliance-building, and sometimes it seemed, also picking fights.
Some things take time ….
By design, their physical art was visible only briefly. The Gates in New York were up for just sixteen days and then, quickly dismantled. In that sense their art was transitory. Yet the genesis of that project was almost three decades earlier, when the pair first approached municipal authorities for permission to install their work in Central Park. Over that period, there were countless public hearings and private meetings with both supporters and opponents. Other projects similarly took years to reach fruition. Ultimately more than twenty installations were approved and built. Twice that number were rejected or abandoned.
….. and perseverance
Calvin Tomkins, in his New Yorker profile of the Christos, observed: “If you had to name one essential quality that underlies Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s career, which is unique in contemporary art, it would probably be perseverance–unbending, implacable perseverance. They have been willing to wait for years or decades to realise some of their grandiose, ephemeral, absurdly beautiful spectacles, working on two or more at a time until they get the necessary permits to go ahead with one of them.”
Christo and Jeanne-Claude emphasised–repeatedly–that the arduous process of winning support was itself an integral part of the art. Appearing before county commissioners for the Running Fence project in the 1970s, Christo insisted that: “The work is not only the fabric, the steel poles, and the fence. The art project is right now here. Everybody here is part of my work. If they want. If they don’t want. Anyway, they are part of the work. Instead to have coloured and white. They are integral part of making that art. . . It is a very deep political, social, economic experience I live right now with everybody here. And it is nothing involved with the make-believe. That appeal was not staged by me. We have emotion and fear. But that is, of course, part of the project.”
The meetings always drew people loudly opposed to their projects, some of whom may have resented being conscripted into the process. These gatherings were like “watering holes for grievances,” was an observation. People’s reasons for opposing the projects were varied, but the depth of their hostility was a common element. The presence of reporters and camera crews heightened the drama. The question for the Christos was how to convince, mollify, assuage, neutralise, and/or overcome the opposition.
…… and money
Then there was the matter of money. Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s projects typically cost millions of dollars, funds that some people believed would be better spent on education, public health, and other social programs. The fact was that Christo and Jeanne-Claude never sought public funds or accepted commissions. Instead, they covered the costs themselves, using proceeds from lines of credit and the sale of Christo’s sketches and plans. Over the years the success of their public projects enhanced the value of their stock of private work. In turn, the increased value enabled them to fund even more ambitious projects going forward. Many simply refused to believe that Christo and Jeanne-Claude would do what they claimed–pay all the costs themselves–simply for the joy of doing it. More than once Christo himself said, “The great power of the projects is that they are absolutely irrational. That drives people berserk. First, because they think it’s not true. They think we have some hidden resources, that we’re lying. Secondly, if it is true, that it is almost imbecile, stupid, impossible.” The challenge for Christo and Jeanne-Claude was responding to deeply felt objections coming from different quarters. The other non-negotiable issue–paying for access to a site they wanted–came up in that project. They almost always refused to do so, even when their arms were twisted. At a hearing one of the County Commissioners declared, “I can’t overcome my own personal feeling that the project is conceptually offensive. That it’s exploitative of something that I regard as beautiful, as sacrosanct in its natural form”. Maybe that sentiment was sincere; maybe it was just intended as a bargaining chip. During a break, he spoke with Jeanne-Claude and her lawyer, asking them to make a “proffer,” a contribution to the county. Jeanne-Claude said no, they never do that. She was so forceful that the Commissioner admitted that he felt uncomfortable making the demand, saying, “There is a sense of blackmail about it”. But he persisted with an ask for $250,000, which Jeanne-Claude flatly rejected.
That exchange didn’t lead to a deadlock, however. Instead, she opened the door to agreement by suggesting that the county could make money selling tote bags and other goods depicting images of their installation. All that revenue would go to the county; none to the artists. She also agreed to cover the cost of removing trash that been washed up on the island–forty tons of it, as it turned out–and she guaranteed a full clean-up when the installation was dismantled- which was always their practice. These proposals opened up an elegant, value-creating solution and preserved the Christos’ principle of not paying for access, at least not directly, and probably saved face for the Commissioner, as well. Forging relationships takes time, especially between people with markedly different backgrounds and aspirations. Although Christo and Jeanne-Claude would not pay tribute to public officials, they apparently weren’t averse to investing materially to forge relationships with constituents who might sway the regulatory boards.
Other local supporters felt kinship with the artists. At that same decisive hearing was Mrs.George Michelson from Petaluma, a farmer’s wife as she introduced herself, straight from central casting. Speaking in favour of the project, she said: “The fence does go through our property. We welcome it. There was one thing said about art being temporal. Some of the meals I prepare aren’t much. The rest of you can all say that, too. But sometimes I go to a lot of work to prepare a meal that I think is art. It’s a masterpiece. And what happens? It gets eaten up and disappears, and everybody forgets! “She got loud cheers and laughter. After years of work, Christo and Jeanne-Claude had become part of the community. Calling for a vote, the board chair said: “I am convinced that this project will create, of course, no environmental harm. We have the permission by the ranchers. We have benefits bestowed not only on the local ranchers upon whose land it goes, but much needed jobs for the county. Thank you, gentlemen. Call the roll,please. The crowd burst into applause. Jeanne-Claude turned to a person next to her, her eyes first full of surprise and then, exaltation. Only then did Christo start to smile, the last person in the room to realize that at long last they had won.
Twenty-five years later the Smithsonian American Art Museum hosted a retrospective that included screening a new documentary capturing how Running Fence had come to be remembered. Looking back almost everyone loved the installation and treasured their friendship with Christo and Jeanne-Claude. The controversy was all but forgotten. The only dissenters were some local artists still miffed that outsiders got all the attention. The Christos also accepted the fact that they didn’t need to please everybody. Having opposition made for great theatre. They could cast themselves as generous, daring, and valiant, while painting their adversaries as narrow-minded and mean-spirited. That, in turn, enabled them to express themselves even more forcefully. As the documentaries confirm repeatedly, they knew how to perform on the public stage and how to talk, very differently, in private conversations.
The deeper lesson
Christo and Jeanne-Claude offer a rare model for creative independence:
• Creative freedom depends on financial independence.
• Big visions require long-term perseverance.
• Cultural change is built through real relationships, not marketing funnels.
• Institutions can be bypassed when trust networks are built instead.
Their art was temporary by design.
Their approach to freedom, relationships, and self-funded creativity was anything but.
Christo and Jeanne-Claude have shown us what happens, what we can achieve when we let go of the constraints that bind us, and embrace our very best ideas. They show us the power of art to change our lives. They show us what it means to live completely freely, in debt to no patron, no sponsor, no ideology, and really recognising no authority in our lives beyond our own moral compass and personal vision.
Catherine Butler is an independent researcher entrepreneur. Christo and Jeanne-Claude's alternative business model for funding artworks is taught at Harvard Business School: The Art of the Entrepreneur.