This month, Anderson Ranch Center for the Arts will officially name Marilyn Minter its 2026 International Artist of the Year, a distinction it reserves “for internationally recognized artists who demonstrate the highest level of artistic achievement and whose careers have fundamentally influenced contemporary art.” Minter checks those boxes. For more than four decades, she has created lavish, realistic paintings full of charm and grit, turning her lens on figures like Monica Lewinsky, Pamela Anderson, and Miley Cyrus, mixing grit with charm, and doing the hard work of bringing sex to American society. The nonprofit Anderson Ranch will present the honor during its Ranch Week celebration in July, along with a gala and film screening Very dirty (2025), the new documentary tracing Minter’s life and career. The week includes a conversation between Minter and Lisa Phillips, former director of the New Museum. We caught up with Minter to hear more about her relationship with Aspen.
Let’s start right with Aspen. One of your first dealers was there, Baldwin Gallery, before you had a gallery in New York. How did that happen?
Baldwin Gallery was one of the first dealers I dealt with, even before I had an agent in New York. I had shown with Baldwin even before SFMOMA, when I didn’t have a gallery in New York, and Harley Baldwin was a complete believer. He saw my work at an exhibition early on, then came to my studio and gave me an offer. It was heaven, and he sold a lot of it. It had a large following, and was essentially the only gallery in town. These were the early moments. Harley was a great man. I had my show, and then on Thanksgiving he got sick, had to leave, and died about three months later. The gallery was run by his husband, Edwards, who actually turned Harley into an art lover.
Aspen is a luxury city, all about trendsetters and second homes. Why do you think your work got there so quickly, before collectors elsewhere caught up?
In Aspen they have Dior, they have branches of all the big houses. The only way I can figure out why they liked it, even though the pictures were disturbing, is that they did a good job. I make them beautiful. And I was working with the world of fashion and glamor, which the art world only despises. It is one of the largest industries in the world, and a driver of culture. Like everything, it has two sides: it creates body distortion, and it gives people immense pleasure. My whole job was to get rid of the shame. All my work is about pulling it into the light. So they responded to that. People were always reacting to my work because there was a lot of hate in popular culture, and I never understood why. I’m just taking tropes from the culture and pushing them a little further.
What amazes me is that the magic and grit in your work were practically neighbors in Aspen and your showroom and the Dior store are in the same building. Did this proximity actually fuel the work?
Thanks to Harley, I was able to get all of these products. Dior, houses on that block. He was saying, give Marilyn these shoes, give Marilyn the jewelry. I kept everything, and I still use it all the time. That’s how I supported myself by doing business jobs. I would shoot for really expensive shoes
Have you ever seen your paintings hanging in ski chalets there?
No, never. But I have collectors who buy provocative artwork from everyone. I’m just one of the artists who buys it. They also bought Andres Serrano. I think they collect things that look nice. They care more about beauty than content. That’s why they collect me. Content they are not sure about.
Colorado is a purple state, and you’re not exactly cool about your politics. Have you ever been worried that a collector might find out about your activity and decide not to buy?
No, I know collectors who are Republicans. They follow me on Instagram, they own my work. If they are true collectors, they know that art breaks the rules. I might have had one person who didn’t like something I did and put up for auction. It was like revenge.
At the Farm on July 14, you’re in conversation with Lisa Phillips, who runs the new museum. There’s a photo of the two of you from decades ago in the documentary Very dirty. How far back do you go?
I met her in Washington, D.C., for the COLAB project. KOLAB was a movement in the 1980s that took over abandoned buildings to perform. She wasn’t at Whitney yet, she was there looking at work somewhere else. We’ve been friends for 40 or 45 years, or something like that. She knew me when I was part of a collaboration with Christoph Kohlhofer. She is the most effective person I know.
For someone whose work is characterized by fashion and glamor, are you personally a fan of fashion?
No, it takes too long. I live across the street from Marni’s and next to Dries Van Noten, so I go in and get something no matter what the occasion. But no one calls me a fashion designer. I was once invited to a party and didn’t realize it was a pre-Met Ball party. I was wearing the wrong clothes. I didn’t know that the Met Ball was on a Monday, and that the ball was on a Saturday.
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