Jeff Koons leaves me feeling empty. Or is he just reaffirming the emptiness that's already there? The first Koons works I ever saw were a number of shiny new vacuum cleaners in the mid-1980s, sealed in pristine, under-lit Plexiglass display cases, ready to roll in their hygienic, dust-free boxes. They seemed to be a take on both Marcel Duchamp's readymades and pop art, with a postmodern futuristic chill. He also showed bronze life-vests, which I took as surreal gags. He denied this when I interviewed him in 1989 at the height of his fame as bad boy of appropriation art, the saviour of banality and the beau of Italian porn star Cicciolina. Koons was fun, and a symptom of 80s excess. He also had a great eye for product placement. Nowadays his art is inflated, not just the prices.