With the year-end 2024 top list on our minds, the current art world is already looking ahead to what’s next. Which artists are having a breakout year, and who will keep the momentum going in 2025? Which rising stars should art collectors, curators and patrons look out for this year? What trends and movements will capture the public imagination, and which will recede into the background? Amidst the excitement surrounding emerging talent, it’s easy to get frustrated with the market. But as we enter a new cycle of gallery openings, busy installations, and scathing writing, let’s take a moment to celebrate those who have long defined America’s cultural landscape. One such deserving of his flowers is Hunt Slonem, an unknown figure in the art world.
Slonem’s career began in New York in the 1970s, where he crossed paths with artists like Andy Warhol and was popular with people, artists and outcasts. From the beginning, his work has been characterized by an interest in nature. Best known for his bold Neo-Expressionist style, Slonem’s paintings often feature several signature subjects: rabbits, birds and butterflies. These photos fill the walls of her Manhattan studio, a wildlife sanctuary filled with her favorite birds and an extensive collection of curios, including Marie Antoinette’s marble busts and vintage top hats.
While researching this piece, I also came across the term “exotica” in reference to one Slonem style. Many writers have referred to his time as an exchange student in Nicaragua, as well as his childhood years in Hawaii, Mexico and California, suggesting that these experiences left an indelible mark on him. Tropical themes and bold color schemes became hallmarks of his early work—which he did for nearly 50 years. But I couldn’t help but wonder: Was it the exotic beauty of distant places that ignited his artwork? Or was there something deeper at play?
I came to Mr. Slonem by phone on Christmas Eve. I asked him what motivates him—what keeps him painting. I was expecting a story about a trip to Tahiti or an amazing sunset from his youth, but his answer surprised me. “I think the basic thing in my work is spirituality,” he said. “I don’t think so—I know it. And that’s really what it’s all about.” I could feel the energy coming off the phone as we discussed his deep and long-standing interest in the metaphysical.
His work is often described as funny or childish, labels I wanted to discuss. I wanted to understand how you define the concept of ‘child’ as it relates to his art. “It’s a natural state,” he told me. “The power of the innocent world is not wronged; you know, the preservation of something spiritual and original that has not yet been painted.” Rendered in bright, bold colors and using a unique exposure technique, Slonem’s paintings defy easy categorization, shifting ever so slightly between abstraction and abstraction. Like Warhol, Slonem often works in series, repeating familiar ideas and images. But while Warhol investigated advertising and commerce, Slonem focused on the act of painting himself. His dense brushstrokes and embossed canvases invite the viewer to consider the subject and the creative process.
I was very impressed with his process and workflow and asked if 2024 had brought any new methods or styling. He was silent for a moment before answering. “I can’t tell you anything about new ways of doing things—they just happen,” he said. “The way things happen in my work is spontaneous. I have to decide what I’m going to paint each day to prepare for it, but any kind of big change just comes out of the ether.”
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A prime example of a radical shift from the metaphysical realm is his signature graphic technique, which was born out of pure chance. One year, early in his career, Slonem found himself seriously ill with pneumonia and unable to work with oil paint. He turned to watercolor and, in an act of experimentation, sharpened the back of his brush and began to mark the canvas. Looking at the bird cages in his studio, he simply wanted to express what he saw: the grids and lines of his studio space. That chance moment gave birth to what is now one of his most recognizable style traits. I wondered if an artist who works in this automatic way might stop working on a composition and start something new and asked Slonem if he ever stops a work in progress. He explained that time and mental distance can be an artist’s most important tools: “I don’t really get what I’m doing until it’s dry and mature. And, you know, a lot of things that I would throw away end up looking like the best thing I ever did.”
Even his signature motifs emerge largely from the chaos of the creative process. Deeply interested in mysticism and metaphysics, Slonem told me about the first painting of the Peruvian saint of the 16th and 17th centuries Martín de Porres, who is said to have climbed to the top of the 22-meter cross every night for years. (de Porres was not canonized until the 1960s when he became the patron saint of mixed nations, racial harmony and animals.) Slonem explained how he painted de Porres surrounded by wild animals. There wasn’t much of a market for religious art of that kind in the 1970s, so he dropped the saint but kept the animals—setting the tone for the next fifty years of his career. But nothing is really left out of the metaphysical you heard of Hunt Slonem. After all this time, the saints are marching again, and these mystical themes, once fallen by the wayside, are making a triumphant return, with a solo exhibition of religious and mystical paintings at K Contemporary in Denver scheduled for spring. “The revival of the saints is at the forefront of my attention,” he said.
Last year was one of the milestones in Slonem, as he cultivated his sanctuaries. He fulfilled a long-held dream by unveiling “Huntopia” at the San Antonio Botanical Garden—a monumental exhibit of giant sculptures made from thousands of hand-cut pieces of glass. Using his signature animal forms, “Huntopia” brought Slonem’s passions into the physical world, expanding his artistic vision and giving audiences a new way to experience the sacredness of nature. Alongside Huntopia, Slonem has also found time to continue his work restoring historic homes in New York, Massachusetts and Louisiana—properties he has acquired over the years have become his personal design and renovation spaces. These homes, he says, will be his legacy, and he hopes to eventually open them as museums where visitors can discover the essence of his mysterious artistic vision.
I asked Mr. Slonem on how he sees his place in the art world. “Well,” he told me, “I never thought about where I came from.” Perhaps that is one of the keys to his reach. He does not focus on gaining fame or competition. He just prepares his sail and goes to work. Slonem’s is an idiosyncratic program—a deep intention with freedom of expression—but still widely felt, with his work in the collections of more than eighty museums, including MoMA, the Guggenheim and the Whitney, as well as the collections of celebrity art collectors such as Jimmy Fallon, Sharon Stone and Cameron Diaz, among others.
No matter how others view his style or his status in the field of art, Mr. Slonem just keeps doing what he always does: paint. And he shows no signs of letting up. A full series of global exhibitions is planned for 2025, in different locations such as Palm Beach, Feldbergstraße in Germany and Turkey, which reinforces his status as one of the most important contemporary artists in America. “Huntopia” will travel to other locations, and his restoration projects will again demand more of his time and attention. There is talk of a film in the works, and a large-format art book will be released.
When I commented on how busy and exciting this all was, she said, “I haven’t had a rough year yet. At first, it was difficult for me to do something, but it didn’t stop me from believing.”
