Annabel Downes graciously offers a last-minute, art-forward gift guide for the nuptials of Amazon overlord Jeff Bezos and socialite Lauren Sánchez, because what else would you get the couple who already has everything?
My heart goes out to the Venetians. Come Tuesday, 24th June, every gondola and water taxi in the city will be conscripted into service, ferrying Rimowa suitcases and their respective owners between Marco Polo Airport and Hotel Cipriani in preparation for the lavish nuptials of Amazon founder Jeff Bezos and the journalist-cum-licensed-pilot, Lauren Sánchez. The star-studded ceremony—expected to outdo George and Amal Clooney’s 2014 affair—has, unsurprisingly, sparked outrage with locals exasperated by yet another glitterati invasion on their already sinking city.
And while my sympathies lie firmly with the Venetians, I couldn’t help sparing a thought for you, dear reader, and the two hundred or so guests facing the frankly impossible task of buying a wedding present for Bezos and his buxom bride, Sánchez. It’s annoying enough having to fork out for a bath mat for a betrothed friend when you don’t even own a nice one yourself. Imagine shopping for the couple who have everything.
Luckily, there is one gap in their otherwise all-consuming inventory: artworks. A relatively recent pursuit—nurtured, it seems, by Sánchez—the couple’s art collection is still in its infancy, which suggests there’s room for a few considered acquisitions. So, I have taken the liberty of compiling a wedding gift guide: six artworks that might just impress the newlyweds, and perhaps secure your invitation to the christening of little Jeff Junior.
FOR THE YACHT: JEFF KOONS’ BALLOON VENUS HOHLEN FELS (MAGENTA) (2013–2019)
When Bezos installed a wooden figurehead of a curvaceous woman carved in the style of a Roman goddess on the prow of his $500M superyacht, Koru, critics were quick to point out its striking resemblance to Sánchez. Asked about the likeness in Vogue, Sánchez laughed it off, pointing out that the sculpture’s modest bosom—protruding through the vacuum-sealed dress—didn’t quite measure up to her own.
Personally, I’d have claimed those norks in a heartbeat. But something tells me Sánchez wouldn’t hesitate to be associated with the megawatt cleavage of Jeff Koons’s Balloon Venus Hohlen Fels (Magenta) (2013-2019).Modelled in the same puffed-up style as his iconic balloon dogs, this towering hot pink stainless-steel sculpture boasts a chest, belly, and thighs so deliciously inflated they look ready to burst. The largest work in Koons’s Antiquity series, Balloon Venus references the Venus of Hohle Fels—a prehistoric statuette dated between 35,000 and 40,000 years ago and believed to be the oldest known depiction of the human form. Anthropologists from Victoria University have suggested that these ancient figurines weren’t meant as ideals of beauty, but represented “hope for longevity within well-nourished and reproductively successful communities.” A fitting emblem for this next chapter, I’d say!
Another unexpected perk is the privacy the sculpture affords. Towering at three metres high and nearly two metres wide, this gleaming, mirror-polished behemoth will catch the rays of the Mediterranean sun—acting as a lighthouse of sorts—and blind the paparazzi and other nosy parkers that have come to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds lounging, deckside.
FOR THE OFFICE: BARBARA KRUGER, I SHOP, THEREFORE I AM (1987)
No work captures the seduction of consumer culture quite like Barbara Kruger’s 1987 reimagining of René Descartes’ philosophical assertion, “I think, therefore I am.” In Untitled (I shop therefore I am) (1987), thought is replaced by consumption. Identity becomes a function of purchasing power. Enter Jeff: the man who built the world’s largest online marketplace, got the planet hooked on one-click checkout, and turned next-day delivery into a global reflex. Kruger meant it as a warning; Jeff made it into a business model. After all, if buying is being, then Jeff has it all: a rocket ship, a 127-metre yacht, a massive clock that ticks once a year, and now, of course, a beautiful wife.
Most of Kruger’s work provides searing feminist critiques. But Untitled specifically targets the gendered mechanics of ubiquitous advertising and the unending commodification of daily life. Mass media have targeted, packaged, and commodified women’s identities, reducing them to objects of desire. It is for that reason that the prickly irony of Untitled is likely to resonate so deeply with the groom-in-waiting. Whilst Mr. B has reached the skies by targeting, packaging, and commodifying almost every object on earth, he would—like Kruger—scoff at the idea of ever doing the same for women. The man sent five of them into space, for God’s sake! This bona fide ally clearly abhors gendered mechanics in any form, unlike his long-term competitor, NASA. It took that lot fourteen years to allow Sally Ride to follow in the giant footsteps of Buzz Aldrin. Bezos, on the other hand, had barely taken off his space suit before he was shooting five beautiful, accomplished, camera-ready women into the stratosphere. One small step for Jeff, one giant leap for womankind!
FOR THE BEDROOM: JAMES TURRELL’S SKYSPACE SERIES
Bezos’s affinity for space is no secret. Summers spent on his grandfather’s sprawling South Texas ranch, a young Jeff would devour science fiction books and track Apollo launches into the expectant sky. Decades later, when Jeff broke the heavens aboard his own Blue Origin rocket, New Shepard, he declared it “the best day ever.” Fortunately, his future wife shares a similar curiosity for the cosmos, having joined the first all-female Blue Origin crew this year, alongside Katy Perry, Gayle King, and other universal megastars. “Earth looked so… it was so quiet,” she said, back on terra firma after touching the outer reaches of mankind’s grasp. “You look at it and you’re like—we’re all in this together. That’s all I could think about, like, we’re so connected, more connected than you realise.”
So, what better gift than one that lets the happy couple feel that cosmic connection—lying in bed, every night, beside their forever orbit? James Turrell, the American artist revered for transforming light into immersive, contemplative environments, has spent decades crafting installations designed to heighten perception and encourage transcendence. He’s installed over eighty of his Skyspace works across the globe—in homes, gardens, pyramids, and pools—for clients ranging from Kanye West to Drake. Carving an aperture in the couple’s bedroom ceiling is a prospect Turrell would hardly be able to resist. The harder question would be which bedroom? I imagine the stars wouldn’t be bad above Bezos’s 30,000-acre Texas ranch, but then again, we’ve got the condos in California, Washington, D.C., Maui, and his several properties on Miami’s Indian Creek Island to consider.
FOR THE NEWSROOM: JENNY HOLZER’S ‘TRUISMS’ (1978–87)
Jeff’s currently in a spot of bother at The Washington Post. The self-proclaimed “hands-off” owner of the newspaper has taken a decidedly hands-on turn, announcing in February that the paper’s opinion section will now rest on two pillars: personal liberties and free markets. Viewpoints opposing those, he added, can “be published by others.”
The fallout was swift; at the top, it saw the resignation of Opinions Editor, David Shipley, shortly after the announcement landed. Thankfully, after a four-month search for his replacement, it was announced last Thursday that Adam O’Neal, formerly The Economist’s Washington correspondent, would take the reins. “We’re going to be stalwart advocates of free markets and personal liberties,” O’Neal videoed himself saying on X. “We’ll be unapologetically patriotic, too.” By the sound of it, Bezos and O’Neal will get on just fine. But how do we whip the remaining disgruntled employees into shape? Perhaps a few choice phrases from Jenny Holzer’s Truisms—her series of single-line statements to resemble existing maxims and clichés, many describing the “usual baloney” we ingest in the media. I envision looping LED signs, not too unlike her 2024 Guggenheim show, running along the walls of The Post’s offices at One Franklin Square, blinking out useful little reminders:
“TOTAL SUBMISSION CAN BE A FORM OF FREEDOM”
“THINKING TOO MUCH CAN ONLY CAUSE TROUBLE”
“A STRONG SENSE OF DUTY CAN IMPRISON YOU”
FOR A SAFE BET: ANYTHING ED RUSCHA
One thing harder than buying a present for the couple who have everything? Buying a present for the couple who has everything… and who you barely know. In any other scenario, a £20 contribution to the honeymoon would do just fine. But this isn’t any other scenario—you’re at bloody Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sanchez’s wedding. You’re already on Table 17, and there is no Table 18, so it’s now or never. Best to play it safe. Bezos’s taste in art remains mostly under wraps, but we do know that in 2019, he was reportedly the anonymous bidder who paid $52.5 million for Ed Ruscha’s Hurting the Word Radio #2 (1964), setting a new record for the artist. So, we know he’s a Ruscha man. Let’s stick with that. As a result, I scoured the Art Basel previews for a few giftable options. Gladstone Gallery has a handsome little 1973 pastel on paper reading “SEVERAL FLAMES”, yours for just over half a million dollars. And for an undisclosed sum, Mnuchin Gallery is offering Injury (1967), a grayscale gunpowder-on-paper work. But if we’re being honest, we don’t really know the guy, and so Carolina Nitsch has the perfect compromise: a $15,000 Ruscha lithograph that reads “HELL ½ WAY HEAVEN.” Probably best to just scratch out the edition of 100 in the corner.
FOR LAST-MINUTE SHOPPERS: DO HO SUH’S WORKS ON PAPER AT VICTORIA MIRO VENICE
You’ve made it to Venice and settled into Harry’s Bar. Eva Longoria is beside you, swiping through her camera roll. She’s just got back from Portofino, and to be fair, it looks utterly postcard. You’re nodding along, doing your best to appear captivated as Jared Kushner has just spotted you, and he was particularly insufferable on the flight over here. Oprah has slid in opposite, nursing a mocktail, still riding out the seasickness from a turbulent boat ride in. Bless her. And then it hits you—that creeping, uneasy feeling. Something’s been forgotten. It can’t be the dress; we tried that on again in the plane loo. Debit card? I mean it wouldn’t be the end of the world; one assumes a matrimony of this calibre is all-inclusive… Oh god, the gift. You’ve forgotten to buy a wedding present for the couple who has everything.
Luckily for you, Victoria Miro has got your back. She’s kept her Do Ho Suh exhibition open just long enough this summer in Venice to get you out of a tight spot. Head over to her San Marco space, where you’ll find a selection of recent works on paper by the South Korean artist—delicate drawings in graphite, watercolour, pigment marker, and his signature thread drawings. And since it’s on paper, it’s delightfully low-maintenance: Jeff can tuck it into the Cipriani’s trouser press now, ensuring it stays in mint condition before being hung, pride of place, on the back of a bathroom door later.
Written by Annabel Downes
