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From: Vestin Pance Category: Art Date: 06 July 2009 Time: 06:44 PM Review: Upon entering the oh so democratically neutral Serpentine Gallery one is immediately hit my the gorgeous smell of Linden Blossom emanating from the hunt of the royal sun basket case infested parklife externals that have roasted the haggis out of Wimbledons one and only boychild hope. Jeff Koons, Can anything be said in favour of the purposefully banal? Once upon a time there was a person not unlike one of Mr Koons "subjects", not a porceline pop star or a flower puppy or a balloon dog but the son of a polish diaspora, called Warhola. It is worth asking if banality needs any form of progression because it is such an entity in itself, stranded, alienated and self serving conveniently this position of pompous self assured risk taking was occupied by Koons much earlier when he appeared to have some force in his deliberations, somehow more eligable than say Hirst but to be fair, a different generation too. Now we look around the Serpentine Gallery, theres a man like a giant Ron Muerk gnome who is a punter looking at the art with a huge grin, initially I'm influenced positively by this until I see the fool half an hour later still looking like a complete twat, this is tiresome, everyone in the gallery is marvelling at the fact that they are being tricked by the surface of the paint, he uses people to paint these you know....These are screen printed...Well! Thats painted aluminium, really? are you sure,? it looks like rubber and so on. Once when a big orangy grey cardboard thing called society existed there was a need for people like Koons to posit "what if's", the guy who did this most succinctly ,(looking back) appears to have been Andy Warhol but we all know thats a general assumtion based on the trends in fashion etc.Koons is an eloquent speaker, like sprinter he does a short insincere series of rallies about when he was a kid (God thats sooo American...starting from when I was a kid) about his MOM being an interior designer...well, thank god we all know thats a euphemism for some idle nuerotic with insufficient quabtities of ravenous wild assed kids to control, but we'll let it slide, usually we get the parable of the Mum who is arty and the Dad was a Banker and in europe particularly a banker is one helluva euphemism. I was'nt genuinely disappointed by the Serpentine show and some of it shouted loudly enough to register something historic, something histeric. Why is the tiny bookshop in the Serpentine Gallery a. Too Small, b. empty when you arrive. c.full, hot and confusing to the point where you have to lreave. Go to the Serpentine for the trees outside and be assurred America is not as bad a place as all that, after all The Puppy had scale...we all loved the Puppy.