Marilyn Minter reflects on decades of beauty, strife and shedding shame


A color portrait of Marilyn Minter smiling at the camera against a yellow background, resting her arms on a surface.
Exaggerated commercial aesthetics have always been this artist’s most subversive tool. Photo: Ryan McGinley

This month, Anderson Ranch Arts Center will officially appoint Marilyn Minter His International Artist Honor 2026, a distinction he reserves for “globally 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 made lush, photorealistic paintings of glamor and grit, turning her subject into figures like Monica Lewinsky, Pamela AndersonAND Miley Cyrusmixing grit with glamor and doing the hard work of bringing sex into American society. The nonprofit organization Anderson Ranch will present the honor during its Ranch Week celebration in July, along with a gala and a performance of Pretty 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, the Baldwin Gallery, before you had a gallery in New York. How did this happen?

One of my first dealers, before I had a dealer in New York, was Baldwin Gallery. I showed 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 a fair early on, then came to my studio and offered me a show. It was heaven and he sold a lot of it. It had a significant following and was essentially the only gallery in town. These were the early works. Harley was such a great guy. I had my show and then at Thanksgiving he got sick and had to leave and died about three months later. His husband, Edwards, took over the gallery and was the one who had turned Harley into an art lover.

Aspen is a luxury town, all fashion flagships and second homes. Why do you think your work landed there so quickly, before collectors elsewhere caught on?

In Aspen they have Dior, they have branches of all the big houses. The only way I could understand why they liked it, even though the images were disturbing, is that they are well done. I make them beautiful. And I was working with the world of fashion and glamor that the art world has nothing but contempt for. It is one of the largest industries in the world, an engine of culture. Like everything it has two sides: it creates body dysmorphia and gives people immense pleasure. My whole business was to escape shame. All my work is about bringing it to light. So they responded to that. People always responded to my work because there is so much hate in popular culture and I never understood why. I’m just taking tropes from culture and pushing them a little further.

Marilyn Minter, Pop Rocks, 2009.Marilyn Minter, Pop Rocks, 2009.
Marilyn Minter, Pop Rocks2009. Courtesy the artist and the Brooklyn Museum

What strikes me is that the glamor and grit in your work were practically neighbors in Aspen, your gallery and the Dior store on the same block. Did this closeness really fuel the work?

Because of Harley, I could get all those products. Dior, the houses on that block. He would say, give Marilyn these shoes, give Marilyn the jewelry. I’ve kept them all, and still use it all the time. That’s how I supported myself, doing commercial work. I would shoot very expensive shoes water for New York Magazine, and then I would shoot the exact same shoes in the mud and then clean them all because I had a day in between. I piggybacked every time I got a commercial job.

Do you ever see your paintings hanging in the ski houses there?

No, never. But I have collectors who buy provocative art from everyone. I’m just one of the artists they buy. They buy Andres Serranoalso. I think they collect things that look nice. They are more after beauty than content. That’s why they collect me. Content they’re not so sure about.

Colorado is a purple state, and you’re not entirely comfortable with your politics. Do you ever worry that a collector might find out about your activism and decide not to buy?

No. I know collectors who are Republicans. They follow me on Instagram and they own my work. If they are true collectors, they know that art breaks the rules. I’ve had maybe one person who didn’t like something I made and put it up for auction. This was more like revenge.

At the Ranch on July 14 you are in conversation with him Lisa Phillipswho ran the New Museum. In the documentary is a photo of the two of you from decades ago Pretty Dirty. How far do you go?

I met him in Washington, DC, for a Colab project. Colab was a movement in the 80s that took abandoned buildings to host shows. She wasn’t at the Whitney yet, she was just down there looking at work in an alternative space. We have been friends for 40, 45 years, something like that. She got to know me when I was in a collaboration team with Christoph Kohlhofer. She is the most effective person I know.

For someone whose job is steeped in fashion and glamour, are you a fashionista yourself?

No, it takes a long time. I live across the street from Marni and next door Dries van Notenso I just go in and get something just in case. But no one would ever call me a fashionista. I was invited to a party once and didn’t realize it was a pre-Met Ball party. I was dressed all wrong. I didn’t know the Met Ball was that Monday, and the party was that Saturday.

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Marilyn Minter reflects on four decades of beauty, grit and shedding shame





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