Marilyn MinterBy Robert Ayers
Published: July 26, 2007
Last week, on
her birthday, she shared coffee and cake with ARTINFO in her SoHo loft, where
three assistants were hard at work on a group of new paintings. We began by
talking about the new book.
Marilyn,
congratulations on this new book. It really manages to convey the physical
character of your work. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a book that used such
heavy, glossy paper before.
Thank you. Isn’t it great? The designers are pretty brilliant. From day
one they said, “We’ll use different papers. We’ll use pink, we’ll use silver.
We’ve got this shiny paper, we’ve got paper that feels like it’s wet.” I can’t
take any credit for anything of it. It was their idea.
But you must
have given them some direction? I’m a catalog collector. I showed them all the catalogs that I love, and I said to them, “Do what you always wanted to do and no one would let you,” and this is what they came up with. I can’t imagine that’s how you work with your painting assistants here. I’m so overwhelmed with everything that’s going on right now. In the last year I’ve been constantly pulled away from painting. I’m at the computer, figuring out what we’re going to do, figuring out images, and ordering prints. If it was just me in the studio I’d be making one painting a year!
I invented the
technique, but at this point, I’m their [the assistants’] underpainter. But I
am also the director. An assistant might do the painting, but I’m constantly changing
what she does. Whether I’m painting on the painting or not, I have the vision
of what it’s supposed to look like. I’m still the painter. I know that things
are going to slow down, and I’ll be back to painting again. Can you explain the difference between the photographs that you make and your paintings? Every photo I take is to make a painting, but sometimes a photo is so good that I don’t need to make a painting out of it. It’s like when a conventional artist makes a drawing and then makes a painting from the drawing. Sometimes the drawing’s just a perfect moment, a finished artistic project, so the painter doesn’t touch the drawing. That’s how I sometimes feel about a photograph: It’s a perfect sketch. |