Interview

Aspen, Colorado sits 8,000 feet above sea level. Alcohol is much more effective up there, light-headedness par for the course. This year's three-night extravaganza, the Aspen Art Museum's annnual summer benefit, was energized by a psychedelic theme that paid homage to the hippy-dippy Aspen that very nearly elected Hunter Thompson sheriff four decades ago—and two snap-crackling blondes who embody the transformation the place has undergone since then. (LEFT: AMY PHELAN. ALL PHOTOS COURTESY PATRICK MCMULLAN)

Meet Amy Phelan: former Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, collector of blue chip contemporary art, and, in hot pink, a particularly American beau ideal. With her husband, John, she's one of the museum's major patrons. She's also a tireless party host—"event chair," if you prefer—and, according to one of the many local and bicoastal Amy Phelan fans I met, the museum's "secret weapon." Each year, she and her spouse host a pre-gala dinner at their house; as Amy will tell you, there's "sugar-free Red Bull in the fridge if you need it!"

Pam Sanders, Amy Phelan, Jennifer Stockman, Allison Kanders, Anne Pasternak at WineCrush

Nancy Rogers has Dallas roots, too. A former private-jet stewardess, she's married to Mary Kay heir and former CEO Richard Rogers. She's impossible to miss in her copper Bentley and famous around Aspen for her three-figure tips. ("Even at a little kid's lemonade stand," a 20-something townie told me.) She's also sweet as plum pie. At the gala's live auction, she put in the winning bid on a commissioned portrait by Inez van Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin. She was likely inspired by Phelan, who bought the same thing at a recent Creative Time fundraiser; the glam shot was shown on a big screen behind auctioneer Tobias Meyer during bidding. Rogers, who'd surrounded herself with girlfriends at her dinner table, did a little dance after she landed the next lot, a glittery Raqib Shaw painting.  She was barely outspent that evening by John Phelan, who dropped $110,000 on a small Fred Tomaselli. She trounced him on the dance floor, though.

Tomaselli was the man, or at least the artist, of the hour.  His retrospective at the museum had opened the week before, and everyone wanted to get up in his face and say nice things to him. He was undoubtedly experiencing a high, although not the sort he alludes to in his 60's-influenced work, much of which makes aesthetic use of psychoactive pills and plants. (LEFT: NANY ROGERS WITH DALLAS SNADON)

Tomaselli wants people to get high from his paintings, he explained in the museum's downstairs gallery. "Instead of going through the bloodstream to alter consciousness, it goes through the eyeballs. I realize it's a lot to ask of art. But I remember standing in front of Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights and almost fainting." Tomaselli seals his paintings under a layer of epoxy resin, a material he discovered hanging out with southern California surfers as a teenager. "I sort of preserve them in their potentiality. Theoretically, they can get people high forever and ever," he mused.

The security guard leaned in to tell Tomaselli that he'd been "tripping" off one of the abstract works upstairs. We moved over to Super Plant, an arabesque of hemp leaves, 'shrooms, and morning-glory seeds. "At first, I was embarrassed that I'd made something so gratuitously decorative," Tomaselli confessed. He's since come around, but said he's using "placebos" these days rather than actual mind-altering substances.  "I thought maybe people were maybe starting to get used to it. "Maybe I'm thinking at this point in my life that I don't need that device."

Earlier in the day, he'd taken a break from days of gladhanding to drive his family to Independence Pass, the highest paved road in the U.S. "I've never had problems with altitude. My mom's Swiss German, from the Alps, and my dad's from the Austrian Alps," Tomaselli said.  Mike Starn wasn't so fortunate. He'd been at the Phelans' Wednesday night, where he recalled learning Photoshop years ago at an Anderson Ranch seminar alongside Robert Rauschenberg and Dennis Hopper. But he wasn't out Friday, and rumor had it he'd been hospitalized for an altitude-related condition.

The other artist hanging around was Jason Middlebrook, who'd created a series of painted and glass-mosaic toadstools (a clever complement to the Tomaselli works) for the event. "I made 25 in 5 weeks. I was cranking. All my studio assistants live in Brooklyn. I had to plead with them to come live with me" at his converted-farmhouse studio in Hudson, New York," he explained. Aspen was his well-deserved break. They sold out, and Middlebrook is taking orders.

Next to the cluster of mushrooms, in a covered tent, was a Skyy vodka bar with jars full of neon-colored pellets and flower-shaped Sweet Tarts. At the oxygen station across from it, day-glo liquids bubbled in clear plastic tubes. Strap on a headset on and cool, gently fragrant air filtered into your nose and mouth. Oxygen is good for anxiety, altitude sickness, headaches, and fatigue. It's not exactly transporting, but it's a good conversation-starter. And unlike Tomaselli's psychoactive comestibles, it doesn't do much for you if you feel fine already.  "It's not toxic," the attendant assured me. "You could stay here all night!"