Yesterday was April Fools’ Day, the day unfunny people the world over adore. I forgot this fact because I’m hilarious. That’s why I was “fooled” by online art publication Hyperallergic’s entirely too long “Jeff Koons Announces Retirement” “joke” piece that came out yesterday. This wasn’t a case of me drawing conclusions from headlines without reading the entire article—I read that shit thoroughly.
The American pop art “artist” (and every rich person’s favorite artist), according to writer Hakim Bishara, had a “life-altering religious epiphany” that caused him to leave the commercial art world permanently. This is meant to be funny because, as we know, Koons is soulless.
Anyone who would make this larger than life-size gilded ceramic sculpture of Michael Jackson and his pet chimp, Bubbles, is not capable of any kind of spiritual awakening. Calling on the long history of Madonna and child sculptures, here, Michael is the Virgin Mary and Bubbles, the Christ child. Which could be a funny proposition—about celebrity worship or some other cliché cultural critique—until you learn that Koons has said, “If I could be anyone it would be Michael Jackson.”
This makes this sculpture something made in earnest— a result of that worship. And viewed within the context of the sexual abuse allegations leveled against Jackson which came out a few years after this the sculpture was made and have resurfaced recently, the idol-worship sheen that covers this sculpture just comes off as gross. One version sits in the San Francisco MoMA, the other at The Broad Museum in Los Angeles.
Though I do find myself attracted to his giant balloon sculptures, I think their color, size, and material appeals directly to my lizard brain that feels compelled to collect shiny things. It’s so emotionally hollow that I think our own hollowness (that we are constantly told to fill with things like Glossier, purses, shows, clothes, etc) is touched by it. Its stomach growls.
We are pulled toward it and compelled to capture its existence with a selfie. There’s a reason why one of these things sold for $58.4 million in 2013. Bret Easton Ellis needs something to go by his pool. I bet these puppies are cold to the touch. Koons creates “art” that plays into our culture that fetishizes consumption. Or it sort of does. I don’t think he does so with intention, but his existence (and success) as an artist is a comment on taste, wealth, and the art world.
Though I find it silly whenever an artist announces their retirement—art is not a career that needs that kind of announcement—I have to admit there was something satisfying about hearing that the ol’ Koons was going to hang up the gloves. I don’t consider myself in any dogged camp regarding Koons (an adoring fan or an ardent critic), theoretically, I would find relief in the artist’s retirement. There’s humor in the vacuum finding something worthwhile to fill itself with—of course it would be God. Hat tip to you Bishara; this is a joke worth falling for. I’m wearing a dunce cap, accordingly.
