The Year of the Trophy: An Introduction to the 2026 Edition of the ARTnews Top 200 Collectors List
The past two auction seasons in New York have seemed to buoy hope in an art market that has been variably described as shaky or going through a correction. At the top end of the market is the competition for “trophy works,” pieces by canonical, blue-chip names that typically have sterling provenance—and that count, if nothing else, as smart investments. Look no further than Constantin Brâncuși’s Danaïde (ca. 1913) and Jackson Pollock’s Number 7A, 1948, both of which sold for over $100 million this past May; Mark Rothko’s Brown and Blacks in Reds (1957), for $85.8 million, also in May; or Gustav Klimt’s Portrait of Elisabeth Lederer (1914–16), which brought in $236.4 million last November. The Brâncuși and the Pollock came from S.I. Newhouse’s collection; the Rothko from Agnes Gund’s holdings; and the Klimt from Leonard A. Lauder. All three of those collectors were fixtures on the Top 200 list from the early 1990s until their recent deaths.
If these sales give any sense of where the market stands today, it would certainly be “The Year of the Trophy.” But is that the full story? “The market for Brâncuși’s Danaïde or Klimt’s portraits represents a tiny, highly visible peak of an iceberg,” said São Paulo–based Pedro Barbosa, whose collection focuses on Conceptual art and archival materials. “It is an asset class operating largely on extreme rarity, consensus history, and wealth preservation. It reflects the financial markets far more than it reflects the living ecosystem of art.”
[Explore the 2026 edition of the ARTnews Top 200 Collectors list.]
In this year’s annual survey, we posed several questions to our Top 200 Collectors, chief among them: What makes an artwork a trophy? “A trophy is a work the art world has finished arguing about,” Jennifer and Alec Litowitz told ARTnews. Jenny Yeh, on the other hand, pointed out that “the definition of a trophy is [not] fixed. Every generation reshapes the art historical canon, and what is considered a trophy today may not be the same decades from now.” (Centuries ago, the ultimate trophy was a sprawling history painting; tastes change.)
Several collectors said a trophy work can never tell the full story of an oeuvre, a movement, or an era. “A great artwork can inspire generations. A great archive can allow generations to rewrite history,” said Ariel Marcelo Aisiks, who collects artworks as well as artists’ archives. “Markets are very good at measuring price,” said Anita Blanchard and Martin Nesbitt. “They are less reliable at measuring cultural significance, intellectual importance, or the ability of an artwork to change how we understand ourselves and the world around us.”
Often, it’s nuances like this that are left out of the trophy headlines. As Suzanne Deal Booth put it, if you only pay attention to those eight- and nine-figure prices or record-smashing successes, you’re missing out on “all of the small moments of trial and triumph that led the artist’s work to be regarded as a trophy in the first place.” When it comes to being a collector, Darlene Pérez said, the headlines don’t cover “the relationships—the years [spent] getting to know artists, galleries, and curators before acquiring a work. Those conversations, studio visits, and friendships are what make collecting meaningful.”
“The goal should not be to collect a trophy by breaking auction records,” said Ryan Zurrer. “The mark of a truly great eye for collecting is seeing the future first and being the first to recognize that a work will become iconic and meaningful as a trophy artwork over time. Then the real challenge is combining that recognition with the conviction to take action and acquire an iconic work before it breaks records in secondary sales.” Grażyna Kulczyk struck a similar sentiment: “Art history has its own rhythm, and in my view, it does not move at the pace of the art market.”
Pedro Barbosa: A true trophy isn’t defined by its price tag; it’s defined by its urgency and indispensability. An artwork becomes a trophy when it captures a pivotal shift in art history or an artist’s trajectory, when it’s a piece so essential that its absence leaves a visible gap in the history of a movement or a collection. The market for Brâncuși’s Danaïde or Klimt’s portraits represents a tiny, highly visible tip of an iceberg. It is an asset class operating largely on extreme rarity, consensus history, and wealth preservation. It reflects the financial markets far more than it reflects the living ecosystem of art. I don’t participate in that auction-driven market. Collecting live, experimental, and conceptual practice means operating in a completely different sphere. The financial trophy market is about certainty and consensus; real collecting is about taking risks before consensus ever exists.
Anita Blanchard and Martin Nesbitt: The idea of a “trophy” is inherently subjective. The traditional art historical canon has attempted to define which artists and works matter most, but in doing so, it has overlooked extraordinary artists for reasons that had little to do with the quality of their work—including access, exposure, subject matter, race, gender, and who historically had the power to collect, exhibit, and write art history. That canon is becoming broader and more inclusive, although there is still considerable work to be done and, at times, real resistance to that progress. For us, the most meaningful measure of a trophy has never been price. In some sense, every work in our collection is a trophy, because we acquire art that resonates with us intellectually and emotionally—work that continues to make us think, question, and discover meaning long after it enters our home.
Suzanne Deal Booth: As the term would suggest, a trophy by nature suggests a form of recognition or publicity—or, in the shallowest sense, something that sells for a lot of money. I’ve never been particularly motivated by any of these factors, and I don’t limit myself to categories of any kind. I always tell new collectors to focus on buying what moves them. The pieces I suppose I would consider trophies are those that I knew I absolutely had to have from the moment I saw them because they had a deep emotional effect on me.
Estrellita and Daniel Brodsky: I have always found the term “trophies” odd because, as collectors, we are cultural stewards for a period of time, and it’s not about ownership. Therefore, I don’t take the position that an artwork’s importance is measured by its rarity, price, or public recognition, and don’t consider the most important works in my collection “trophies.” They are objects, or even moments in time, that instill a sense of wonder and have the power to challenge accepted narratives, expand the canon, and deepen our understanding of ourselves and art history.
Becky and David Gochman: “Trophy” has never been the language that resonates with us. The most meaningful works are the ones that continue to unfold over time—the ones that keep asking new questions and deepen our understanding of the world. Curiosity lasts much longer than the excitement of acquiring something, and what we really value is how we can share this experience by lending work and giving tours of the collection.
Pamela J. Joyner and Alfred J. Giuffrida: I take the meaning of “trophy” quite literally as a manifestation of having won a contest. In our collecting process, we are not seeking to win a competition. We are working to help deserving but underappreciated artists to assume their rightful place in art history based on the merit and the importance of their careers.
Elie Khouri: A trophy isn’t defined by its price. If the market calls something a “trophy” simply because it sold for an extraordinary amount, that’s the market’s definition—not mine. For me, a trophy is a work that truly matters: a defining piece by an artist who has changed the conversation, or a work that holds an irreplaceable place within a collection. What the headlines often miss is why a work matters. Price is the easiest story to tell. I care far more about artistic significance, cultural impact, and whether a work will still matter decades from now.
Jennifer and Alec Litowitz: A trophy is a work the art world has finished arguing about. Monet, Picasso, the great Klimts—the discussion is over, the verdict is unanimous. The high premium paid for a trophy is, in a real sense, the price of the argument having been settled. Something interesting happens to a work at this point. Since art has no intrinsic yield—no coupons, no cash flows—value is determined only by pure agreement. So a work that everyone agrees on begins to function like a currency, a store of value. This is not a criticism of such works, merely a description of what unanimity does to them.
Cheech Marin: I think the market and collectors often define “trophy” differently. The market usually means something that’s rare, expensive, and recognizable … something everybody knows. To me, a trophy is a work that changes the way you see the world. It’s a painting you can’t stop thinking about. It doesn’t have to cost millions of dollars, it just has to matter. I’ve always believed that great art is great art, whether it hangs in the Louvre or in the studio of an artist nobody has discovered yet.
Purat “Chang” Osathanugrah: It seems to many that “trophy” means price, fame, or simply something you can show off. I’ve been feeling that less and less. Markets need headlines, but the works that feel like trophies to me are rarely defined by what they cost. A trophy is really a relationship. It’s the work you still find yourself returning to years later, long after the excitement of the acquisition has faded.
Bernardo Paz: I believe the real trophy is people meeting one another and being moved by nature and by the landscape. For me that happens when art makes sense within a landscape, when artists are able to share their stories, their criticism and their sense of beauty alongside nature. The prize is not the object, the work or the value; it is the encounter and the transformation of the people involved. I think the world would be better if everyone could live closer to the force of nature.
Jorge M. Pérez: Considering our collecting practice, I don’t think “trophy” is even in our vocabulary. And I think that term is so relative—every collector values pieces differently.Darlene Pérez: The most meaningful works in a collection don’t have to be the most expensive. They become part of your everyday life, and you find yourself stopping to look at them even after you’ve seen them hundreds or thousands of times.
Nadia and Rajeeb Samdani: We don’t really think in terms of “trophy” artworks. For us, collecting has never been about acquiring objects because of their market value, rarity, or status. We are much more interested in ideas, relationships, and the long-term journeys of artists. The works that become most meaningful to us are those that mark an important moment in an artist’s practice or reflect a relationship that has developed over many years. They often remind us of conversations, collaborations, and shared experiences rather than auctions or prices. If a work has lasting significance, it is because of the story it carries and the people behind it, not because it is considered a trophy.
Gary Steele and Steven Rice: For us, a trophy has nothing to do with the price or the name on the wall. It’s the piece that catches your breath a little every time you walk past it—the one that’s still keeping you company years later. We select art by how it makes us feel, whether it deepens the story we’re telling as collectors, and whether it comes from an artist whose voice we truly believe in. In our home, a work becomes a trophy when it becomes part of our shared life.
Francesca Thyssen-Bornemisza: I have to be honest—the word “trophy” makes me flinch a little. It comes from hunting, from the wall of scalps, and that is precisely the opposite of what art has meant to me in my life. I would say that some of the works in the collection are iconic, because they are unique, because they were most likely commissioned for a very special reason, because they help me—and, hopefully, others—change how I see the world. Does it hold us accountable to something larger than ourselves? That is the question I wish I were asked sometimes!
Jenny Yeh: I don’t believe the definition of a trophy is fixed. Every generation reshapes the art-historical canon, and what is considered a trophy today may not be the same decades from now. As new ideas, artists, and perspectives emerge, our understanding of significance evolves as well.
Ryan Zurrer: I believe trophy artworks are the handful (<10) of works that survive from each generation to truly matter over time, due to the work’s cultural impact or the technical innovation that the work offers, which opens up a new subgenre or category of expression. Much of my collecting practice at 1OF1 is centered around searching for and collecting the most iconic works of our generation. I believe a trophy artwork should be both a) a magnum opus or masterpiece work of the artist and b) from a generationally important artist.
Estrellita and Daniel Brodsky: The highly publicized market for masterpieces by artists such as Brâncuși or Klimt represents only a small and very visible segment of the art world. While record-breaking prices attract headlines, they are not representative of how most collectors, curators, or museums engage with art. I have occasionally participated in auctions when a work aligns with my research interests, but the marketplace has never been a driving force.
Pedro Barbosa: The market for Brâncuși’s Danaïde or Klimt’s portraits represents a tiny, highly visible tip of an iceberg. It is an asset class operating largely on extreme rarity, consensus history, and wealth preservation. It reflects the financial markets far more than it reflects the living ecosystem of art. I don’t participate in that auction-driven market. Collecting live, experimental, and conceptual practice means operating in a completely different sphere. The financial trophy market is about certainty and consensus; real collecting is about taking risks before consensus ever exists.
Anita Blanchard and Martin Nesbitt: The highly visible trophy market represents one part of the art world, but it should not be mistaken for the art world as a whole. Auction headlines naturally gravitate toward scarcity, famous names, and record prices. Those measures tell us something about the market, but they tell us much less about artistic significance. There has been meaningful progress in recognizing artists who were historically excluded from the canon, but the market still does not consistently or adequately value work by artists of color, particularly Black, Latino, and Indigenous artists. Access within the primary market can also remain uneven, including which collectors are given opportunities to acquire important works.
Patrick Collins: I have always collected thoughtfully, with a personal viewpoint, so the idea of “trophy works” is not something that guides my collecting. In the last few years, I have been contextualizing the living artists in my collection by looking at more historic conceptual works, such as by Yoko Ono, Robert Gober, Dan Flavin, and Sturtevant. I focus on meaningful ways to continue to discover and acquire emerging artists and avant-garde icons.
Lonti Ebers: During periods of diminished confidence in the contemporary market, an art trophy serves as a conspicuous sign of success with minimal risk. Trophy art is borne from branding and, by definition, requires a public forum and public affirmation. The greater the proliferation of the artist’s work, the better. However, what may be deemed a trophy today may be without a market tomorrow. Look at the sad state of the 19th-century French painter William-Adolphe Bouguereau. Over time, tastes change, while the assessment of an artist’s importance will come into clearer focus.
Prince Hans-Adam II von und zu Liechtenstein: The Princely Collections of Liechtenstein have been shaped over centuries by a commitment to artistic quality, historical significance, and cultural continuity. Each work is valued not only for its individual merits, but also for the way it contributes to the character and coherence of the Collection as a whole. We tend not to view collecting primarily through the lens of individual acquisitions. The enduring significance of a collection lies in the dialogue between artworks, in the stories they tell together, and in the broader understanding of art and history that they make possible. The responsibility of stewardship, preserving these works, advancing scholarship and ensuring access for future generations, remains central to this mission. While public attention often focuses on exceptional auction results and headline-making sales, these represent only one aspect of the art world. Equally important are the long-term commitments to conservation, research, publication and public access. These activities may attract less attention, but they are fundamental to the lasting cultural value of any collection.
Hortensia Herrero: The truth is that I have never considered artworks to be trophies to be hung on a wall like a football team’s cups or a hunter’s prized kills. For me, art is a passion, not a competition. Rather than competing, I prefer to share. I simply acquire the art I love and that fits into my collection. A collection that I have chosen to share at the art center that bears my name in Valencia, so that more people can enjoy it. Although they may not be recognized as such by the “trophy market,” for me, virtually every work in my collection is a trophy.
Jennifer and Alec Litowitz: It is nearly the inverse of the market. The trophy tier is a handful of lots that dominate the headlines and the totals; the actual market, by count, is overwhelmingly the works selling for modest sums that barely register in the turnover figures. And the trophy tier is not purely a market in the “discovered price” sense. With guarantees and irrevocable bids arranged before the auction begins, a trophy result is partly a negotiated instrument. The hammer confirms a deal as much as it discovers a price. The headlines describe last season.
Nancy A. Nasher and David J. Haemisegger: The trophy market makes for flashy news, but it represents only a small corner of the art world. The art world we know is built much more quietly, by artists in their studios, gallerists nurturing careers, collectors funding projects and lending works, museum leaders educating audiences, and people discovering art for the first time. Together they form the cultural ecosystem that allows art to thrive.
Purat “Chang” Osathanugrah: The recognized trophy market, whether it’s a Brâncuși, a Klimt, or another acknowledged masterpiece, is certainly real, and I understand why it captures so much attention. Those works represent extraordinary moments in art history, and if one genuinely belonged within Dib Bangkok’s long-term vision, of course, we’d look seriously. But I don’t wake up hoping to win an auction. I’d much rather spend the afternoon in an artist’s studio or discover a work that stays with me for weeks afterward.
Patrizia Sandretto Re Rebaudengo: I naturally pay close attention to changes in the art market and am interested in the phenomena and labels that define new approaches to collecting. However, the concept of a “trophy” does not reflect my own approach to collecting in any way. I have never regarded collecting as a competition. For more than 30 years, I have chosen works, not names or market values.
Julia Stoschek: I’ve never really thought about collecting in terms of trophies. For me, an artwork becomes significant because of the dialogue it creates within a collection and the conversations it continues to generate over time—not because of its price or rarity. The so-called trophy market represents only a very small part of the art world. Much of the most exciting work today exists outside that narrative, particularly time-based media, performance, installation, and works that are difficult to commodify. If there is such a thing as a trophy, it is often not the most expensive work, but the one that fundamentally changes how you think. Those are the works that stay with you.
Ryan Zurrer: Ultimately, a collector should only go to the mat for what they consider to be a trophy work for their collection. That can depend on the collection, but genuinely great collectors practice restraint in the form of “fewer, but better,” which leads them to collect iconic works and share them with the world rather than accumulating a larger number of less meaningful objects. The goal should not be to collect a trophy by breaking auction records. The mark of a truly great eye for collecting is seeing the future first and being the first to recognize that a work will become iconic and meaningful as a trophy artwork over time. Then the real challenge is combining that recognition with the conviction to take action and acquire an iconic work before it breaks records in secondary sales.
Ariel Marcelo Aisiks: Great artists do not work in isolation. They work in dialogue with peers, galleries, writers, patrons, movements, and institutions. When the market directs extraordinary attention toward one figure, that attention can create pathways toward the recognition of many others who worked alongside or in parallel with that artist. What are often absent from trophy headlines are the dispersed archives, overlooked artists, nearly vanished publications, and documentary materials that allow the masterpieces themselves to be understood. These materials may not generate spectacular auction results, but they are indispensable to museums, curators, and scholars. For me, a true trophy is not defined solely by price, fame, or marketplace validation. A true trophy is an acquisition that permanently expands what scholars are able to know.
Estrellita and Daniel Brodsky: What is often left out of the trophy headlines are the quieter acts of collecting that ultimately reshape art history: collectors who champion overlooked movements and artists, as well as those who support scholarship, archives, and exhibitions. By looking beyond established narratives, we can discover artists whose contributions have yet to be fully recognized.
Cheech Marin: The artists. Too often the headlines focus on the price instead of the works, the ideas, or the people who created them. Some of the greatest artists working today will never make the front page because they’re not selling for astronomical prices. I’d rather spend my time discovering extraordinary artists than reading auction results.
Nancy A. Nasher and David J. Haemisegger: The artist’s life. Behind every work is a person. Their stories, their histories and their perspective on the world in which they lived do not typically get mentioned in auction headlines. However, these factors are what ultimately give the works their meaning.
Pete Scantland: Ultimately, the most rewarding part of collecting isn’t acquiring something that everyone already agrees is important. It’s developing your own taste, learning about the world and yourself, building relationships, and ultimately developing the conviction to recognize importance before the consensus fully forms. This applies equally to the contemporary and historical markets.
Komal Shah and Gaurav Garg: What is often left out is the slow work of recognition: scholarship, exhibitions, institutional commitment, and the collectors and curators who help bring overlooked artists into fuller view. Auction records are easy to measure, but cultural significance develops in many other ways. Some of the most important shifts in art history begin well before the market knows how to price them.
Gary Steele and Steven Rice: The headlines catch the gavel price and miss all the rest: the studio visits, the long conversations, the friendships with artists, the quiet thrill of falling for someone’s work before the world has caught on. They miss what collecting has really been for us: a passion we discovered together just over a decade ago that has become one of the deepest joys we share. And they miss the living artists whose work will matter for generations even if it never sets a record. That’s the real story of collecting, and it almost never makes the front page.
Ryutaro Takahashi: I believe that only when human desire crystallizes into something truly beautiful does it become a trophy. Beauty alone is not enough. A trophy must possess the power to awaken desire in others. I often feel that the global trophy market is shaped too heavily by Western aesthetics, leaving Eastern ways of seeing insufficiently represented. I question the tendency of the media to reduce the value of beauty to market price alone.
Vanhaerents Family: The most exciting developments in contemporary art frequently occur far from the headlines, through emerging artists, ambitious exhibitions, and long-term support from collectors, institutions, and galleries. We pay attention to all parts of the ecosystem, not just the record-breaking end of the market.
Mei and Allan Warburg: The headlines tend to focus on price, competition, and ownership. What is often missing is everything that surrounds an artwork: the artist’s ideas, the collector’s personal connection to it, the conversations that led to its creation, and the responsibility of caring for it over time. At our Donum Estate, there is also the dialogue between the artwork and the landscape. Nature continually shapes the sculptures, and the estate evolves around them through the changing seasons. Stewarding these works is an ongoing commitment, but watching them become part of the landscape is what brings us the greatest joy. For us, collecting is not about possessing an object or making commercial sense. It is about bringing together art, nature and wine in a way that creates meaningful experiences, and, whenever possible, sharing those experiences with others.
Jenny Yeh: I think what is most often overlooked is the genuine connection between an artwork and its viewer. The headlines often overlook the emotional, intellectual, and even transformative experiences that great works of art can create. For me, the true value of an artwork lies in its ability to stay with you, to challenge your perspective, and to continue revealing new meanings over time. Those qualities are much harder to quantify, but they are ultimately what make a work truly meaningful.
Anita Blanchard and Martin Nesbitt: Kerry James Marshall’s Vignettes is certainly one of those works for us. It is extraordinarily layered, filled with cultural and historical references as well as moments of tremendous beauty. But our connection to it is also deeply personal. Marty bought the painting for me as a Christmas gift, and Kerry came to our home on Christmas Eve and hung it himself. It is difficult to separate our appreciation of the painting from the memory and friendship surrounding it.
Estrellita and Daniel Brodsky: Some acquisitions inevitably become milestones, but not because the market later confirms their value. They become significant because they continue to generate ideas, inspire exhibitions, and connect with broader historical questions. Works by Carmen Herrera, Lygia Pape, Lygia Clark, Gego (Gertrud Louise Goldschmidt), Beatriz Gonzalez, Ana Maria Maiolino, Mira Schendel. These are the closest things I have to “trophies.”
Bob and Jane Clark: Theaster Gates’s Black Cloud & One Building Standing” is the trophy of our collection. It set the direction for everything we’ve acquired since, inspiring us to support artists whose work creates lasting cultural impact. Gates has redefined what an artist can be, combining an internationally acclaimed studio practice with transformative community-building through projects like the Rebuild Foundation, making him a true north star for artists, collectors, and cultural institutions alike.
Nicola Erni: For me, the trophy is the collection as a whole: to have such a deep and extensive collection of fashion photographs, covering the whole history of fashion photography in many facets. So, all my pieces are part of the trophy.
Julie and Edward J. Minskoff: Two, a painting and a sculpture, respectively: Ed Ruscha’s Standard Station and Pablo Picasso’s La guenon et son petit.
Michael Ovitz: I don’t collect art based on catchphrases like “trophy artwork,” “market darling,” “auction record setting,” or any other description that doesn’t represent passion for the way the work moves me or what it says to me or how it makes me happy in my day-to-day lived experience of it.
Basma Al Sulaiman: One work I consider a trophy is The Black Arch by [sisters] Raja and Shadia Alem, created for the first Saudi Pavilion at the 2011 Venice Biennale. I acquired it because it represents a landmark moment in the international recognition of Saudi contemporary art. Its importance extends far beyond the market; it embodies a pivotal cultural moment and preserves an important chapter in Saudi Arabia’s artistic history.
Christen Sveaas: I never think of artworks in my collection in terms of trophies. For me, art is about what mystery lies behind the canvas and what emotions it stirs in me. I only ever buy works for my personal satisfaction.
Lonti Ebers: I have missed countless trophies. Had I started collecting during a time when there were few collectors, trophies could have simply fallen in my lap. There may be works I own that others covet and consider trophies, though I don’t see them that way.
Nancy A. Nasher and David J. Haemisegger: We have been fortunate enough not to spend much time thinking that way. If a work belongs in another collection, or especially in a museum, we are genuinely happy for it. Collecting has never felt like a competition to us.
Francesca Thyssen-Bornemisza: The losses that actually haunt me the most are the things I couldn’t save in Ukraine: the Scythian gold looted by the Russian occupation forces from the Local History Museum in Melitopol; Kherson’s most valuable icons and paintings, which were looted by the withdrawing troops; a huge collection of antiquities from the Mariupol Museum—the list continues. Libraries, cinema archives, collections of all sorts—gone, lost, destroyed, all in a deliberate effort to erase Ukrainian cultural identity, while profiting from cultural plunder that continues to this day, unpunished. Those are the trophies that got away. Everything else is a footnote.