Yesterday evening I was invited to attend the opening of the Jeff Koons: Popeye Series exhibition at the Serpentine Gallery in Hyde Park. The queues stretched around the block – which happens to be the entirety of one side of Kensington Gardens. And this was for the pulsed entry VIP visit, which I was luckily on time for. Inside the white gallery spaces, I could not believe the number of people – and these were not ordinary people! High flying artiste types, great American collectors (or so I was told) the fashionistas of the art world, lots of them young and beautiful. It struck me that for a world that presumes to commentate on the state of society, in some ways it is truly conventional.
Truth be told, I enjoyed myself - watching people people watch, drinking champagne, being obnoxious and over the top. It is a truism that you have to be part of that world to be part of it.
The art itself is quite surprising. Once you get over the thrill of the vibrant colours of the swimming pool inflatables and the Grosfillex chairs, the provocation of the vivid plastics (which are actually made of polychromed aluminium), the sexuality of the pin up airbrushed porn models, the superficial sense of banal fun – I found it deeply disturbing. In truly postmodern sense, the more garish it is, the more unsettling.
Take the 2D work Elvis - an oil on canvas depicting the same blonde female nude in two provocative poses. It resembles a diptych, with the famous lobster in the foreground between the two bodies. It is an attractive image, uneasily turning you into a voyeur, making you respond to the sexual come on (picture on http://www.jeffkoons.com search under Popeye and Elvis). And the more you look, the more you see. Very few words in the illustration-style grey and yellow background appear as you stare: Dance of Death.
I think this was the highlight of the evening – and the single thing that told me I needed to leave.
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