Jeff Koons
THE HOLY GRAIL
“Jeff Koons’ Rabbit, a sculpture which, when it was released in 1986, would not only shake the art world to its core, but alter the course of popular culture as we now know it. For me, ‘Rabbit’ is the ‘anti-David,’ which signaled the death of traditional sculpture – disrupting the medium in the same way that Jackson Pollock’s Number 31 permanently redefined the notion of painting. From my first day in the auction world - this is the work that has represented the pinnacle of both contemporary art and art collecting to me.” - Alex Rotter, chairman, Post-War and Contemporary Art at Christie’s
After gallerist and former Goldman Sachs executive Robert E. Mnuchin (father of US Treasury Secretary Steven T. Mnuchin) placed the winning bid of $80 million (which far exceeded the estimate of $50 to $70 million) for Jeff Koons’ shiny sculpture of an inflatable rabbit at Christie’s Post-War and Contemporary Art sale — a record price for a work by a living artist — Los Angeles Times columnist Michael Hiltzik wrote: “A few years ago, the joke going around was that a cocaine habit was God’s way of saying you have too much money. Cocaine is out of favor today, but for the 0.01%, high-priced art has taken its place.” The whopping price tag of $91.1 million (including fees) surpassed the $90.3 million record set by David Hockney’s Pop-like Portrait of an Artist (Pool With Two Figures) in November 2018. (Hockney’s short-lived record eclipsed Koons’ existing record, when in 2013 Balloon Dog (Orange) sold for $58.4 million, also at Christie’s.) Unveiled at the Sonnabend Gallery’s “New-Geo” exhibition in 1986, Koons’ stainless steel Rabbit (part of a series entitled Statuary) has been hated long before its record-breaking sale at Christie’s last week (indeed in certain sectors of the art world it’s almost a requirement). When it was first shown the art critic of The New York Times, Roberta Smith, described this “oversize rabbit, with carrot, once made of inflatable plastic. In stainless steel, it provides a dazzling update on Brancusi's perfect forms, even as it turns the hare into a space-invader of unknown origin.”
Critics have likened Koons’ to both Warhol (1928-1987) and Duchamp (1887-1968) and, whether rightly or wrongly, one can’t think of the last three decades in art without thinking of Koons. In the 33 years since it was created — more than any other object— Koons’ 3-foot tall faceless inflatable Rabbit helped establish him (already in 1986) as a force in the contemporary art world. Considered by some the “holy grail” of Koons’ works, at once cute and imposing, it’s form speaks of fun and frivolity, yet it’s lack of facial features render it inscrutable. Without ever offering up a single meaning, it embodies a whole range of references, sending the viewer on an endless journey of association, reminding us of everything from Disney to Playboy, Easter, Childhood and Andy Warhol’s Silver Clouds (1966). Critics have described it variously as “sinister” and “menacing” with a “weird evilness”, a visual con, a lazy-joke and as a mirror, reflecting life, and life itself; incorporating us — the public — within the ever changing drama that takes place on its polished steel surface. Indeed ever since Homeric Greece, the reflection of polished metal has been a symbol of divine power and grace; with lifelike bronze statues buffed to a golden sheen. “[It] presents a panoramic view of society,” Koons’ has said of his Statuary series. “On the one side there is Louis XIV and on the other side there is Bob Hope. If you put art in the hands of a monarch, it will reflect his ego and eventually become decorative. If you put it in the hands of the masses, it will reflect mass ego and eventually become decorative. If you put art in the hands of Jeff Koons, it will reflect my ego and eventually become decorative.” Controversy has surrounded the sculpture since it was first exhibited at Ileana Sonnabend's gallery; Christie’s have described it as a thumb in the eye of the art world, while at the same time embracing its attitude and aesthetics.
Rabbit, stainless steel (1986) part of the “Statuary” series by Jeff Koons Photograph: ©Phillips
“Look at the Rabbit,” Koons said to David Sylvester, the British art critic and curator. “It has a carrot to its mouth. What is that? Is it a masturbator? Is it a politician making a proclamation? Is it the Playboy Bunny?... It’s all of them.” Against the inevitable backlash to Koons’ record breaking Rabbit, Roberta Smith argues in the New York Times that while it’s “easy and fashionable to hate” Koons’ work, “he changed sculpture, bringing together Pop, Minimalism and Duchamp in a new way … elevating overlooked objects.” More important, his “art has proved resistant to easy absorption into art history. We’re still fighting about him.” Koons shiny steel Rabbit — Smith contends —elicits in the viewer “a visceral, embarrassing object lust.” Of all the Statuary series that Koons had shown at the Sonnabend Gallery, Rabbit was the only sculpture in the group that was almost not made. In a moment of inspiration, Koons’ sketched ideas for nine of the 10 sculptures on the back of a bar napkin; “When I made my stainless-steel rabbit,” Koons’ told Norman Rosenthal, “I really couldn’t decide whether to make an inflatable rabbit or an inflatable pig.”
Koons’ precedent — like a deity — looms large over the art market; whenever an artist sells at auction, Koons’ astronomical prices serve as an outer point of reference. Indeed Economist Allison Schrager sees the $90 million paid for Rabbit as demonstrative of the current state of the art market. Whilst art collecting has always been an exclusive activity, the contemporary art market is now dominated by billionaire collectors. Middle-tier collectors — the bankers at Goldman Sachs but not the partners — who would typically invest in emerging or well-established mid-tier artists are put off by the sky-high prices at top galleries and auction houses. When these less affluent collectors see a Hockney painting sell for $90 million, Schrager writes, they “assume the $50,000 work they can afford is not worth buying, especially if they can’t flip it for a quick profit at auction.” (Of course, there’s a certain irony here, given Koons’ Rabbit is emblematic of the roaring mid-80s; a moment in America’s socio-cultural history that can be defined by a grotesque magnification of personal wealth, breeding rampant consumerism and a rapacious greed for manufactured Pop culture.) There are of course wider implications for the art market than the not-quite-as-rich-collector being priced out. The sort of smaller galleries, that typically support and nurture unknown artists are finding it difficult to survive; meaning the likes of Andy Warhol and Donald Judd, who rose through the gallery system, might never be discovered.
Italian Woman, stainless steel (1986) part of the “Statuary” series by Jeff Koons Photograph: ©Phillips
In 2008, after the financial crisis, prices were down by up to 50%. Since then we’ve seen a mad amplification of the luxury market; Koon’s work is now emblematic of an era in which only the top 0.01% can play. Mnuchin remains tight lipped about the identity of the bunny buyer, but art collector and billionaire hedge-funder Steve Cohen is now the leading candidate. “I think the Bunny works because it performs exactly the way I intended it to,” Koons said of Rabbit. “It is very seductive shiny material and the viewer looks at this and feels for the moment economically secure.” Mark H. Haefele, a UBS executive who wrote the foreword for this year’s Art Basel/UBS report on the global art market, observed that “the number of billionaires worldwide has more than quadrupled since 2000, and many devote part of their wealth to building up collections, driven by a passion for art.” (Of course, “a passion for art” is open to interpretation.) Nothing will change until either the market collapses, or fairer taxes reduce inequality; then the economy, the art world included, will restructure itself. Koons’ Rabbit is at once approachable, sweet, high-brow, low-brow, Pop. It’s about taste and class; it reflects whatever we bring into it.