Anna Weyant Knows Exactly When to Let a Painting Live or Die

5 July 2025

Photo: @gagosian/Instagram

Anna Weyant, at just 30, has rapidly emerged as one of the most talked‑about painters in the contemporary art world, and while gossip and speculation swirl around her personal life and meteoric rise, she retains a steely determination to let her work and only her work define her legacy.

Currently represented by the influential Gagosian Gallery, Weyant commands both attention and controversy not only through her provocative, melancholic figurative oil paintings but also through her personal choices, most notably her relationship with gallery owner Larry Gagosian. While some might reduce her success to that high‑profile connection, Weyant’s mastery lies elsewhere: in her ability to understand instinctively when a canvas should survive or be cast aside.

Born in Calgary in 1995 and trained at Rhode Island School of Design, Weyant paints scenes that often depict young women hovering on the threshold between girlhood and adulthood. Her subjects undergo what she calls “low‑stakes trauma” moments of awkward transition, doubt, or internal conflict.

These tableaux whether a teen slumped at a dinner table or a dollhouse frozen in ominous stillness are rendered with a precocious technical skill informed by the chiaroscuro of Dutch Masters. They pulse with tension and ambiguity, simultaneously familiar and slightly disquieting. It is this contrast between classical technique and contemporary subject matter, girls, aged around their late teens, set amid muted palettes of dusty pinks, deep greens, and sable blacks that gives her brushwork its uncanny allure, one that resonates widely with viewers and collectors alike.

Weyant first gained attention in 2019 with a solo exhibition titled Welcome to the Dollhouse at New York’s 56 Henry gallery. The show, heavily influenced by memory and teenage interiority, quickly sold out; her paintings became collector grabs, and Weyant found herself thrust into the spotlight. A series of critical moments followed: a major sale at Sotheby’s in 2022 of Falling Woman, which fetched $1.6 million eight times its estimate and a subsequent auction flood of her earlier works and sketches. That sale marked both the power and peril of her early success.

Artwork from her college years once forgotten, reappeared, some unrepresentative and released without her knowledge. While she praised the exposure’s positive side, the experience sparked an intense vulnerability: she was bombarded by rumors, speculations about pregnancy, and online gossip that felt surreal and at times devastating enough to threaten her well‑being .

At the heart of Weyant’s practice is a ruthless self‑discipline. She has publicly spoken about destroying paintings that do not meet her standards: “I might kill it,” she has said of a still‑life that felt misguided or inauthentic. That instinct to murder a flawed painting reveals an artist determined to preserve integrity over output, quality over quantity. It’s a mindset shaped not only by her training at RISD, which encouraged an anti‑commercial ethos, but also by early mentors like Ellie Rines at 56 Henry, who advised against quick commercial gains, warning Weyant early on not to sell prematurely to speculators.

Her figures are often complex contraptions of youthful beauty, vulnerability, and latent power, a girl at a glamorous event who feels out of place, or a cake‑topped body draped in ennui. The contrast between their delicate features and dark undercurrents reflects Weyant’s dual allegiance to formal elegance and emotional honesty.

Critics sometimes fault her for playing it safe, but Weyant and her supporters counter that a deep emotional resonance sustains her work. She herself acknowledges the market’s influence, admitting that she sometimes resists painting portraits simply because they fetch higher prices, when her true passion may lie in still‑life compositions. That ability to balance authenticity with pragmatism is rare in artists who have achieved meteoric success so early .

Her personal life has inevitably become fodder for discussion. Weyant’s relationship with Larry Gagosian has been scrutinized, painting a picture of romance entangled with power and patronage. But she’s resisted simplistic narratives. Rumors, including that she was expecting a child, circulated when she split from Gagosian in early 2024 rumors she described as mortifying and harmful to her mental health. Eventually, she moved on both personally and artistically, purchasing her own New York apartment and establishing boundaries around her private life and creative output.

Now, Weyant’s life is dominated not by tabloids but by painting. She recently completed a major public art commission for the Metropolitan Opera, a massive banner reflecting opera’s dramatic forces. She is said to be cautiously balancing large‑scale exhibitions with opportunities to explore, renew, and even destroy work unworthy of her vision. It’s a reminder that despite the dizzying status she’s achieved youngest in Gagosian’s roster, massive auction records, and widespread critical acclaim Weyant remains governed by a single principle: trust your eye, and if it’s wrong, walk away.

Anna Weyant’s journey embodies both the temptations and the trials of modern artistic fame. She has navigated the art market’s highs and lows, the glare of public scrutiny, and relationships laden with financial implications, yet she consistently returns to the canvas with humility, courage, and an unforgiving commitment to her own standards. She understands that true success isn’t measured by headlines or bank transfers but by the paintings that survive and those she chose to let die.