I seem to be forever fascinated with the window as subject matter.

The first window I painted was when I lived in Taos, New Mexico in a two story log cabin.  When I looked out the window,  all I saw were those huge, floating New Mexico clouds in a deep blue sky.  So for years that is what I painted,  because in painting clouds I felt a sense of freedom and weightlessness.

I suppose I am grounded,  because lately I have included a landscape through the window which I believe has brought a greater depth and dimension to the work.  It is now a window in my studio in Santa Fe, the same one I have painted for years, though now I choose from the photos I have taken of landscapes or seascapes from across the country.  Through painting, I can travel to wherever I want to be just by picking up a brush.

Though I have included a portrait in the foreground,  usually there is a still-life arrangement on the window sill.  Compared to most still-life painters who never see the light of day,  I am more like an indoor plein-air painter because I paint the sunlight and have to work rapidly as the colors strengthen and the shadows lengthen throughout the day.  Often I will work on two paintings, one in the morning and the other in the afternoon.  My days are spent watching the sunlight move across an object.  Colors reflect off one another creating new colors, some of which exist only for a few minutes, because of the ever changing angle of the sun.   I try to capture the moment as well as the feeling of the season.

In the spring, there are wild yellow rose bushes, irises, lilac bushes and apple blossoms in the valley.  In summer, there are thunderous clouds, hollyhocks, poppies, apples and squash from the back yard; while in autumn, I paint the pumpkins, gourds of every shape and color, red and green chile peppers, chamisa or yarrow and yellow aspen leaves in the mountains.  In winter, there is snow on the mountain tops, blue shadows upon the landscape and black branches on naked cottonwood trees.  I collect bones, sea shells, eggs, and convince friends and family to pose for me.   I frequent flea markets and junk stores since I enjoy painting objects with a history, like copper pots, milk containers, kettles and white wash bowls, because there are cracks, dents and scratches from years of use in another time.  Evidence of use from people long since gone.

Painting is spiritual in a primal way.  When I place an object, fruit or flowers on the window sill, it’s almost like an ancient ritual or an altar where the seasons harvest or treasured goods were offered to the gods as a prayer or to give thanks.

People often ask me how long it takes to finish a painting.   I say weeks, months, years, and some are never finished because nature is so wondrous and complex and can’t be captured or completely understood.  So, I paint to try to understand the world around me.  It’s an endless mosaic, a quest, a riddle. Sometimes it gives me some relief from the chaotic and often unjust world we live in.  It allows me to find some solace in something beautiful and to believe we can create a better world or really to simply see the beauty that is already there, but rarely noticed.

Marnie Johnson

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