My girlfriend Shana used to take an art history class when we were in college, and every weekend we'd make a trip to the National Gallery to appreciate the art. She'd explain the style and the symbolism of each piece and I'd wonder where the fuck that Campbell's Soup can painting was or how Escher got all those people to walk up and down the stairs at the same time. As hard as she tried to teach me about angels and cherubs and Renaissance art, I just wanted to spend my day with Brad and that Lichtenstein drowning girl in the modern art wing. I guess I've always been attracted to flashy, kitschy cartoon irony, which might explain my fascination with supermodels and Real Housewives.
I never got to meet Andy Warhol or Keith Haring, and Banksy, well...you know, so imagine my excitement meeting art world bad boy Jeff Koons this morning. The subject of a career retrospective at the Whitney Museum in New York City, Koons is best known for his marriage to an Italian porn star and his oversized balloon dog sculptures. His flashy, vibrantly colored art is gaudy, tasteless, sometimes whimsical and often crude, and I fucking love it!
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