IT ONLY took a day or so for the first letters to come in. They were bound to arrive because they always do.

Sometimes it is tempting to imagine York as a city full of people inching towards indignation as fingers reach for biros or, in technologically minded households, the computer keyboard.

With this in mind, a Technicolor York Minster was always going to be risky. The first letters of complaint were printed on yesterday's letters page, along the to-be-expected lines of "what have they done to our Minster?"

From where I was standing, what they had done was transform one of the world's most treasured buildings in a marvellous and exciting way, without at all denigrating the Minster, its spiritual purpose or its history.

But perhaps I am just not grumpy enough. Strangely, all the people standing around me on Tuesday were gazing in wonder. None of them looked as if they were itching to hurry home and compose a letter of outrage to the Evening Press.

It was a dark, but lovely November evening, mild enough but with the damp-bonfire whiff of autumn. People returning from work mingled with the tourists and visitors. I propped myself against my bike and joined the upwards-gazing throng.

It is the West Front of the Minster that has been given the treatment. This front is at the opposite end to where all the scaffolding is at the moment. Deciding which end is which has always been a puzzle, but now I know. The West Front has the temporary lights, while the East Front has the builders in.

Or, if pubs are your preferred reference point, the West Front looks towards The Three Legged Mare, in High Petergate, while the East Front faces the back of the Cross Keys, in Goodramgate.

The West Front of the Minster has been restored a number of times over the centuries, most recently in the 1980s and 1990s.

Now that it is finished, at least until the next time damp starts rising or whatever, it seems the right moment to show it off.

The task of showing off/ruining York's pride and joy has fallen to a Frenchman, the lighting artist Patrice Warrener, whose work has been seen around the world, but never before in Britain.

Warrener uses the chromolithe technique to "paint" buildings. The quote marks are there because he doesn't use paint, which would be a reason to write grumpy letters to the Press, instead relying on the transforming powers of light.

But the really clever bit is that it looks as if paint has been used - or, at least, until the colours move. By projecting lights of different hues, Warrener picks out the western faade of York Minster, highlighting the sculpted detail around the central door and throwing into new relief the beauties of the Great West Window.

And all thanks to the Minster's website for the finer details. I just stood there and admired the colours, which move from a point of white through pinks, yellows, blues and other colours beyond my palette.

This light installation works because it totally respects the Gothic building, while challenging the viewer to look again.

It echoes the Medieval approach to colour, reflecting the sort of bright colours which would have been in favour when the Minster was built.

Also, it's different, it's fun - it's beautiful, for heaven's sake.

So what on earth is there to complain about? Sadly, there is always something to complain about in York.

But not on this occasion from me. As I cycled home past the unheralded East Front, I thought: this is just what York needs, something exciting and modern, yet in sympathy with the historic beauties of the city.

What a lovely and uplifting notion. The only downside is that Warrener's light show ends on Saturday. So three nights remain for those who wish to gaze in wonder - and for those who wish to feel grumpy.

Updated: 11:12 Thursday, November 03, 2005