Jeff Koons has a knack for making things shiny. His balloon dogs gleam like freshly waxed cars at a dealership, except they’re parked in museums and sold for millions. Admirers call them playful, critics call them hollow, and Koons himself calls them art. The catch? Koons doesn’t actually make them. His studio assistants do the heavy lifting while he orchestrates the brand. It’s less “artist at work” and more “CEO of Sparkle, Inc.” And yet, collectors line up, wallets open, eager to own a piece of cultural helium. Defenders say Koons is holding up a mirror to consumerism. But let’s be honest, it’s a mirror polished so bright you can’t see past your own reflection. The sculptures don’t challenge wealth, they flatter it. They’re the perfect party trick for a society that loves its luxuries inflated and its meaning deflated. So the balloon dog remains, wagging its stainless steel tail, reminding us that sometimes art isn’t about depth, it’s about shine. And Koons? He’s the man who proved you can sell emptiness, as long as it sparkles enough.