Aurel Schmidt: The Art World Antagonist

Aurel Schmidt’s favorite pill to draw is a rainbow-colored pressed Fentanyl tablet, stamped with an “M” mimicking the Mallinckrodt Pharmaceuticals logo that appears on legit 30mg Oxycodones. The bootleg street drug is rendered in hyper-detailed colored pencil. Beside it sits branded cellophane coke baggies, candy wrappers, cigarette butts, beer caps, and other illicit ephemera. It’s the detritus of “desire,” as she refers to the materials, all assembled into one of the artist’s signature “Trash Dolls.” The work is beautiful, meticulous, and transgressive in a way that’s quintessentially Schmidt: equal parts seductive and self-aware, pretty and punk, high art and lowbrow humor.

For nearly two decades, the New York-based artist has operated outside of the traditional gallery representation system, selling directly to collectors, building a devoted following online, and cultivating a career that bridges the art world, fashion, music, and street culture. Her work is instantly recognizable: intricate drawings rendered in ballpoint pen and colored pencil that can take upwards of a hundred hours to complete.

Some depict the “Trash Dolls” — playful figures assembled from discarded pleasures and vices: weed nugs, condom wrappers, razor blades, receipts, and matchbooks, each object rendered with obsessive care. She’s been known to add in human hair, actual cigarette ash, and convincing white powder to the frames, blurring the line between representation and reality. Other artworks venture into darker territory — swampy naturescapes populated by animals and skeletons, allegories for depression, anxiety, and the murky psychological states she’s trying to navigate. Whether light or dark, her drawings share a common DNA: obsessive detail, sly humor, and an unflinching look at the quotidian junk we use to shape (and cope with) our existence.

Schmidt’s been featured in countless print magazines (often nude in an act of self-aware sexualization — part performance art, part provocation). She’s also shown work at Deitch, Peres Projects, and other on-the-pulse galleries, as well as been featured in the 2010 Whitney Biennial, all without ever formally signing with a gallery. By the 2010s, she’d become an “It Girl” of sorts — big on blogs and Tumblr, beloved in fashion circles, a fixture in the downtown scene, BFFs with Chloë Sevigny — yet she never played the game the way others did. While her peers chased blue-chip representation, Schmidt chose independence, betting on herself and her audience. It’s paid off. Even as the art market contracts, she’s still thriving.

These days, Schmidt’s diversifying even further. She’s collaborated with Supreme, recently exhibited in Japan with support from Verdy, and has projects in the works with skate icon Tyshawn Jones and several companies and rappers she’s not allowed to name yet. It’s the kind of cross-pollination between art, fashion, and music that galleries used to look down at but now desperately want in on.

Now, Schmidt is preparing her biggest provocation yet: her first painting is set to debut at Frieze LA with Lomex Gallery this February. The work is characteristically antagonistic — an “anti-painting painting” referencing Goya’s Los Caprichos series, a mocking portrayal of artists as dancing monkeys. It’s a critique of the very medium she’s adopting, executed in a style that refuses to play by painting’s rules. “I resent painting,” she says plainly. “I resent painters. I resent galleries that prioritize painting over other art forms just because it makes more money… but I’m the monkey, too.”

Schmidt doesn’t mince words — “I’m motivated by being an antagonist” comes to mind, as does, “I’m using this article to get laid.” She’s sharp, funny, and refreshingly honest about sex, drugs, money, and the absurdities of the art market. And she’s still got plenty to say.

You didn’t go to art school. How did you learn?

Aurel Schmidt: That’s why I drew for so long — because I didn’t know how to do anything else. Everyone draws. Kids draw. After high school I moved to Vancouver from my smaller city. Kids my age were going to art school, doing pop-up shows, and because I was good at drawing, they’d ask me to be in them. I met photographer Tim Barber when he was studying at Emily Carr, shortly before he moved to New York and was working for VICE. He was very connected and it got in my head: New York. That’s where I want to go. So that’s what I did.

When did being an artist become something you took seriously?

What happened to me, and what I think happens to a lot of people, is if you’re good at something, people let you know. I think the concept that people can choose what they want to do is wrong, especially in the arts. You don’t get to choose — people choose for you by buying your work and liking it. You can will your way to be an artist, but how far can you really go without fans and support? Once you get that attention you can then go “OK, now I can do that. I want to keep doing that thing.” Obviously, money is motivating. If someone wants to pay you for something, you’re going to keep doing that.

How did you break through?

I moved to New York in 2006. I was making drawings in my bedroom in Bed-Stuy. My roommate had a “studio” visit with Kathy Grayson who was then at Deitch. While she was at our apartment, I showed her a drawing. She liked it. Then Tim did a Tiny Vices group show. I worked really hard and we hung some of my work unframed. Kathy bought some of my drawings for the collector Dakis Joannou. Things went really fast after that, to me having a career all of a sudden. It was also during an art boom.

You were something of an “It Girl” at the time, both within the art world and the downtown scene.

I was big on blogs like Tiny Vices and featured in print magazines, too. My work was popular with people who weren’t just buying art. I don’t really like the art world. I think it’s kind of weak. There’s money there, but it doesn’t have a strong foundation. I think it’s nicer to have a more diverse audience or platform, where people can enjoy your work in different ways. Things have changed so much. The art world used to be this high pedestal where doing a corporate collaboration was thought to be shameful. Now most artists and galleries are wishing they could do corporate collaborations. People have become more capitalistic. I used to say no to corporate collabs then too, but now it’s what I want. Thankfully I have a diverse enough career with different audiences that I can do that.

You’ve never signed with a gallery. Why?

Yeah, never. I still don’t want to sign with a gallery. I’ve never even had a gallery that represented me. I’m an online person. I’ve always been online and popular online and that’s where I really feel — it’s like an art form for me. I love it and I wouldn’t want a gallery to think they have ownership over that content or can control any of that. And I make a lot of sales online. My own sales. I always have. Even in the Tumblr era, people buying art from online images was just beginning and people would joke, “Wow, collectors are just buying it from a JPEG.” And I’m like, yeah, they are…

What are the challenges of being independent?

I’ve definitely not made the best decisions with business. Right now I feel like I’m going to have a nice moment again and I’m already in it, and I don’t want to fuck it up. I have to remember that I can’t do all the business stuff myself. It’s OK to get someone else who’s better at business to help make decisions.

Your subject matter has evolved recently. Tell me about the “Trash Dolls” series and the work related to darker themes.

Since COVID, I went back to my older work and started doing the “Trash Dolls” drawings again and kind of pop-y trash stuff, which I love. But in my heart of darkness, I just want to go back to making scary stuff again. Big pieces that are not super colorful, not made of garbage — more like illustrations of animals in nature and dark, swampy stuff. I grew up in a forest and these types of images are more like feelings or dreams. Mental states rather than real locations. I don’t know how to describe this exactly, but say I’m really depressed, I feel like I’m underwater in a swamp. You know that beautiful Millais painting of Ophelia lying there? It’s like you’re just under the surface in this murky area, which is what you’re trying to get through. So the nature stuff and animals are just symbols for other things, they could even be political things. I was imagining you could use images of frogs gossiping and they represent trolls on the internet. You can get really creative with that stuff on a personal and psychological level — everything can be something else.

Your work has always balanced light topics with dark aesthetics and vice-versa.

Totally. I had a date here the other night and they saw this big test painting of a Baphomet-style goat, and they were like, “I don’t like it. I don’t get it. Why are you doing this?” And I was like, “Oh, weird. Normal people don’t always like this dark stuff.” Think of horror movies, though. They’re a big genre, a lot of people do like darkness and relate to it. Even the “Trash Dolls,” they’re so light, they’re so happy, but clearly there’s a massive dark streak through them. The dolls work because they’re scary and cute. And you can relate to them. I sometimes find creativity in the place where you are a bit scared and anxious, but you find a way through it. That’s like enjoying a horror movie: it’s a safe place to feel scary feelings. But the goal is to find something more to say with the imagery.

What drew you to drug imagery?

I mean, I’ve done a lot of drugs [laughs]. The first time I did one of the “Trash Doll” images comprised of drug ephemera, I was dating someone who was having drug problems. I loved them and I was just sad and worried and I wanted them to get better and they eventually did. I think I made it almost like a portrait of them. The early ones were called “Drug Voodoo Dolls.” They have another function too, where they represent things you desire. Think of a cake, candy, or drugs. It’s something you crave, a treat, but it’s also something that’s going to kill you or you’re going to regret. You could say, “I’m not going to eat a pint of ice cream alone tonight,” but then you do. You could beat yourself up, but you could also laugh with your friend about doing that. Life’s like that. It’s about learning to laugh at oneself for your mistakes and being a little lighter with the idea of your desires — not judging yourself so much.

You’re preparing for Frieze LA and exhibiting your first formal paintings. How’s the preparation going?

I’m supposed to have a show in May in New York with Lomex Gallery, but our first thing is Frieze LA. I’m making a painting, a big painting. It’ll be the first painting that I exhibit ever. I’ve practiced painting before, but I’ve always tried to do it in a traditional way and just completely struggled with it. With drawing, you leave the white, the light. With painting, it’s all these layers and then you’re supposed to dab the white on the top. It’s the opposite. And it was driving me crazy. I really had a hard time with the layering system. But then I approached one more like a drawing and something clicked. What I’m going to try to do is present people with non-paintings, basically drawing on a canvas. I’m using oil paint on canvas, but I’m really just using my drawing techniques. Right now I’m just going to treat it like a drawing, using a limited palette, using my hand. And I have a really nice hand.

What’s the subject?

It’s a reference to a Goya painting of a monkey painting a donkey. It’s mocking collectors and artists. The artists are definitely the monkeys. This, to me, is specifically about painting. I’m going to make this piece as an anti-painting painting. My dream is to do it in this style where it looks almost like a drawing, raw — not the way you’re supposed to paint. And then in the canvas within the canvas that the monkey’s painting, it will be a very painterly image. I’m probably going to ask another painter to do the painterly part.

Why does this topic feel relevant right now?

It’s relevant for me personally because I resent painting, I resent painters and I resent galleries that prioritize painting over other art forms just because it makes more money. I’m talented and it’s super hard for me to make money or even get shows because I work at a small scale and drawing isn’t as respected. Drawings take longer, too. I would have been a millionaire a million times over if I was a painter. And there’s something I resent about that. A lot of people that are not even good, not talented, can just make some shitty paintings and make tons of money in and out the door. It’s a sad reality about the art market. Paintings are like gold — a stable investment. Buying them is not about buying creativity. People even buy off of scale, which is depressing. Isn’t it sad that there’s not the spiritual ember within the work that makes it special, but rather the size and materials?

I love art. I really genuinely do and it’s very hard to respect a collector’s attitude about art where you’re paid by the square inch. With this painting, I think I want to come out the gate being self-aware about what painting is and what it means to me. I’ve dissed painting many times. So this painting is like, “I’m the monkey, too…” It’s a fuck-you and a fuck-me at the same time.

I think it’s bullshit that people think I’m being self-destructive by not painting and limiting myself by drawing. Not drawing drugs makes sense. Not drawing penises makes sense. But not drawing at all? Writing off the whole medium because it doesn’t sell as well as painting? Sad. Because the kernel of beauty is there and the spiritual value is still in the work. And it’s just as special and it takes even longer to draw. But I’m about to make paintings, so hey!

I wanted to ask about you moving away from sexual imagery.

I haven’t been doing any genitals for a while now, actually. They weren’t selling well [laughs]. Galleries would be like, “We just can’t sell these penis drawings of yours.” I’ve also moved on in my life where I don’t care anymore about that subject matter. It’s not interesting to me anymore. I’m still super into sex, but I just don’t feel the need to make art about it anymore. It was a feminist comment about my own personal experiences and myself which I no longer find interesting. Identity art became so popular, and I don’t want to be part of identity art. Too many people did it.

There was a time when you pushed that to an extreme.

I was an OG of being an Instagram hoe. I was the original Instagram hoe art thot. It was a stunt. I like stunts. This article is a bit of a stunt — I tried to make the pictures look sexy. I want to look hot because I’m single and it’s like, why wouldn’t you want to look good? Everyone’s thirst trapping. It’s just part of culture now. And if I’m going to have a piece in Hypebeast, I’m going to use it to get laid. I don’t really think about sexiness anymore other than what I just said, which is that we all are just trying to look our best and being in the human game.

You have collaborations coming up — including with Porter, Tyshawn Jones, and some companies you can’t name. What’s it been like to work with brands?

I think if I really want to be successful with brands, I’ll have to change my subject matter. I’m clearly limiting my audience by having illegal drugs in every single piece. I’m doing a bunch of stuff with this one company, and they’re like, “We love drugs, but you can’t draw them.” And I’m like, “OK! I can draw all this other stuff, too!” But yes, the Porter bags are coming out with drawings of trash all over them. That’ll be cute. I’m excited to see what it looks like to have my stuff on a bag.

I also recently did a show in Japan with Verdy. It was great for me because a lot of regular people that were fans of the brand came and saw my work. Hundreds of people taking detail shots of the drawings, interested in the actual work, really appreciating it. They weren’t just there for Verdy — it went beyond hypebeast fandom [laughs]. It made me more aware of the whole streetwear space, too. I was like, “Whoa, there’s this whole world.”

Any dream collaborations?

I’m a little hypebeast. I of course want my Pharrell × Louis Vuitton collaboration. I love that he’s taking high fashion, which is so annoying and snobby and stuck in its ways, and he’s changing it. He’s making it into something else and it’s not just about clothes. I think that that’s the way the world is going. And I like that he’s making LV an experience and not just a logo. Like, a whole feeling people can tap into and be a part of without even buying the product. In the apocalyptic world we live in where only big brands have all the money now, LV is sharing the wealth by bringing new people in. I love seeing Tyshawn Jones on the LV stuff. I think they have potential for really diverse creativity. I see it way more there than in the art world. Like, I’m going to do Frieze and I’m going to do a solo show, but it’s so archaic compared to something like working with Louis Vuitton.

What’s your relationship with clothing and style?

I know this is going to sound bad, but I’m a girl. I like clothes. I like designer clothes. I like wearing nice clothes. I don’t know anything about streetwear culture. And I think that probably is maybe because I’m a woman. If I become popular in streetwear, I’ll be the one that doesn’t make sense. I would love to see my art on T-shirts, shoes, bags, whatever, collaborate with brands that are hype, but I personally don’t collect that stuff.

What keeps you going? The market’s in a tough place right now.

Well, thankfully I’ve been off the art market teat for years now. I’m totally independent and self-sustaining. I think I’m enjoying this low market point and I think I’m going to have a nice time in it because I’m an antagonist. I didn’t like the way the art market was operating. I thought it was gross and I like seeing it fall. And even though some of my friends are suffering, it didn’t affect me at all. I didn’t lose any money. And I just am like, “Well, it’s time for the Phoenix to rise…” I’m not the Phoenix, I’m just saying burn it down and see what comes out, right? And if there’s new collectors interested in new ways of being creative, that’s good. That old system was not about art, but rather a focus on products and investments.

Some successful artist said to me yesterday, “Oh, you’re showing a painting at Frieze? You’re not going to make any money right now.” And I was just like, “Yeah, but I’m not doing it for money.” And that’s where you guys got lost because you all just got so into the money that you didn’t even care anymore.

Ultimately, I’m motivated by my fans, by an audience, by being an antagonist, by trying to say something through my work. I’m not just trying to express myself, but also express things that other people can relate to and feel something from. I truly want to make the world a more interesting place to live.