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Jeff Koons, Balloon Dog (Orange) (1994-2000) |
Jed Perl, in his wonderful, indignant, agitated "The Cult of Jeff Koons" (The New York Review of Books,
September 25, 2014), objects to what he sees as a consensus among certain
critics, including The New Yorker’s Peter
Schjeldahl, that Jeff Koons’s art is “criticism-proof.” He says, “In The New Yorker, Peter Schjeldahl,
certainly a man of discriminating tastes, basically announced that there was no
way of arguing with his [Koons’s] success. Koons is ‘the signal artist of
today’s world,’ Schjeldahl wrote. ‘If you don’t like that, take it up with the
world.’ ” He further says,
When Schjeldahl regards Koons’s overblown baubles, what he
sees is an authentic aesthetic response to the mind-bending pressures of a
global consumer society. Our Gilded Age, so Schjeldahl may imagine, precipitates—empowers,
even legitimates—this high-tech kitsch vision. But does it follow that those of
us who do not respond to the work are in denial—that we are, whether
consciously or unconsciously, delegitimizing a legitimate aesthetic? Is
Schjeldahl suggesting that the very existence of the work forces some sort of
aesthetic embrace? Must it be appreciated simply because it exists (and
sells for so much money)? And where does this leave the average museumgoer,
whoever that mythical being might be, who has been told even before walking
through the doors of the Whitney that whatever scruples he or she has are
suspect?
These are good questions. I commend Perl for raising them. The
line that Perl refers to is from Schjeldahl’s "Selling Points" (The New Yorker, July 7 & 14, 2014): “It’s
really the quality of his work, interlocking with economic and social trends,
that makes him the signal artist of today’s world. If you don’t like that, take
it up with the world.” I remember reading that passage when it appeared in the
magazine and wondering what world he’s talking about – the real world or the
art world. Most people in the real world would, I think, consider Koons’s work
to be kitsch. Perl calls it “high-tech kitsch.” He also calls it “overblown
baubles,” “the apotheosis of Walmart,” “supersized suburban trinkets,” a
combination of “in-your-face banality and in-your-face extravagance.”
If, on the other hand, Schjeldahl is referring to the art
world, he’s ascribing seriousness to a feverish, fair-driven sphere that he’s
previously described as a “circus” ("The Circus," “Culture Desk,”
newyorker.com, November 13, 2013), where money is the favorite measure of
quality. “Our age will be bookmarked in history by the self-adoring gestures of
the incredibly rich. Aesthetics ride coach,” he says in "Changing My Mind About Gustav Klimt's 'Adele'," “Culture Desk,” newyorker.com, June 7, 2012).
So when Schjeldahl says of Koons’s work, “If you don’t like
it, take it up with the world,” he seems to be saying, “Look, you can’t change
the nature of the times we live in. Big money is now the ultimate arbiter of
what is great. Aesthetics rides coach.” This is one interpretation. It’s the
one that Perl adopts. He says, “Our Gilded Age, so Schjeldahl may imagine,
precipitates – empowers, even legitimates – this high-tech kitsch.”
That’s Perl’s interpretation. It’s a reasonable one. But I
don’t buy it. Plutocrats may relegate aesthetics to the cheap seats, but not
Schjeldahl. His appreciation of beauty is there in the “It’s really the quality
of his work” part of the above-quoted sentence. It’s there in the distinction
he draws between Koons and Damien Hirst. In his "Spot On" (The New Yorker, January 12, 2013), he says of the Brooklyn Museum’s
1999 Young British Artists show, which included work by Hirst, “It was too
transparently desperate—unlike the pricey frivolity, backed by real artistic
command, of our own Jeff Koons.” Note that “backed by real artistic command.”
In the same piece, he says, “Hirst will go down in history as a peculiarly
cold-blooded pet of millennial excess wealth.” This is close to what Perl is
saying about Koons. But Schjeldahl treats Koons differently than he does Hirst.
In “Selling Points,” he says, “No other artist so lends himself to a caricature
of the indecently rich ravening after the vulgarly bright and shiny. But
mockery comes harder when, approaching the work with eyes and mind open, you
encounter Koons’s formidable aesthetic intelligence.”
In an earlier piece on Koons, Schjeldahl says, “Can you
dislike Balloon Dog (Orange)
(1994-2000), a ten-foot-high representation, in chromium stainless steel with a
coppery tint, of a cartoony canine formed with twists in a long balloon?”
("Funhouse," The New Yorker, June 9,
2008). Right there, in his pleasurable description (“cartoony canine formed
with twists in a long balloon”), I detect a strand of Schjeldahl’s aesthetic.
Later, in the same piece, it’s evident in his description of Koons’s Hanging
Heart (Blue / Silver)
(1994-2006) – “sweet as dime-store perfume.” Schjeldahl’s response to these
particular Koonses has nothing to do with “the mind-bending pressures of a
global consumer society,” as alleged by Perl, and everything to do with pure
delight – the pleasure principle in his experience of Koons’s art.
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