Jeff Koons: An Equilibrium Which Is Not Permanent But Very Pure
{ Jeff Koons, Dogpool (Panties), 2003 }
Jeff Koons is a seminal figure in recent American art, but his work still seems to infuriate some audiences. Writer Douglas Coupland, an art student at the time of Koons’ meteoric rise in the early 80s, tries to figure out why.
I once had a discussion with a friend: we were trying to figure out what it would be like to go through life without a sense of humor. By this, we meant going through life being incapable - in a medical and biological sense - of understanding funniness, in much the same way that the colorblind can never understand the concept of ‘green’. Imagine: you’d be standing amid all sorts of everyday situations - around water coolers, in shop queues and the like - and for no apparent reason, people around you would suddenly erupt into bizarre brays and coughs and parps of air. You’d ask them what made them emit such noises, and they’d tell you something called ‘a joke’, and you’d stare back at them and say, ‘So? What’s the big deal?’
I think this idea is germane when approaching the work of Jeff Koons, the quintessential 80s artist. His body of work has survived for going on two decades now, its financial value ever escalating and its art historical value remaining high (in many ways escalating right along with its investment status).
So why should such an established artist inspire fantasies about lacking a sense of humor? Well, in the most respectful way, Koons can seem like a joke.
{ Jeff Koons, Girl with Dolphin and Monkey, 2006 }
New York City, October 1986
Ottmann: Where do you get the ideas for your work?
Koons: It’s a natural process. Generally I walk around and I see one object and it affects me. I can’t just choose any object or any theme to work with. I can be confronted by an object and be interested in a specific thing about it, and the context develops simultaneously. I never try to create a context artificially. I think about my work every minute of the day.
{ Jeff Koons, Elephant (Yellow), 2004 }
Ottmann: How far are you involved in the actual production of your work?
Koons: I’m basically the idea person. I’m not physically involved in the production. I don’t have the necessary abilities, so I go to the top people, whether I’m working with my foundry — Tallix — or in physics. I’m always trying to maintain the integrity of the work. I recently worked with Nobel prize winner Richard P. Feynman. I also worked with Wasserman at Dupont and Green at MIT. I worked with many of the top physicists and chemists in the country.
Ottmann: Could you elaborate the term “integrity”?Ottmann: How do you manage to get all the legal rights?
Koons: I come out of a background of, at one time, being the Senior Representative for the Museum of Modern Art. I was also a commodity broker on Wall Street for six years, so I have experience in dealing with people on a professional level. I had only one company in my last project that turned me down. And in each company I have to deal first with them, then with their lawyers, and in some cases with their advertising firms and their printers. { Continue reading }
{ Jeff Koons, Tulips, 2004 }
Walking into Jeff Koons’ studio is more like walking into a car factory or NASA. There are men in white suits hovering around objects, tag teams of painters on ladders, and paint swatches enough for neighborhoods of remodeled homes. Then there’s the clean room, where inflatable sculptures are polished and tended to behind clear plastic curtains and sealed doors. It’s Elizabeth Arden meets Vasari . Just a normal day for Jeff Koons and his 50 plus assistants. There’s a gentle, calm feeling throughout the studio despite the fact that orders are very clearly being given left and right. { Jeff Koons in his New York studio ~ photos & interview }
{ Jeff Koons, New Shelton Wet/Dry Double-Decker, 1981 | Jeff Koons, Three Ball Total Equilibrium Tank, 1985 | Jeff Koons, Woman in Tub, 1988 }
