Walking into a Jeff Koons exhibition, I am tempted to do the prohibited – touch everything in sight. Not only does everything on display look like a giant toy, but I simply can’t believe the bubbles and balloons around me are constructed from aluminum.
It’s that age-old question of what constitutes modern art. Is it basketballs floating in distilled water? A giant, inflatable lobster for the pool? Pop-art is so 80s, and Koons’ work casts a reflection brighter than the ones off his inflated sculptures. It’s grossly overstated – the screens of he and his former wife having sex take up two walls. The blue heart pendant could hang from God’s neck, and at a price tag of more than $20 million made Koons the most expensive living artist at one time.
I love Koons for his absurdity. I have such an affinity for anything bright and shiny that I’m immediately drawn to him. Michael Jackson cast in porcelein, his faithful Bubbles beside him, is one of Koons’ most famous pieces. It’s irreverant and almost silly, inspiring chuckles from the crowds, but it’s the idoltry that made it an honest piece. Our celebrity worship exists on a greater scale than any of these sculptures can capture – but he does a great job trying.