Marie Wilson

Marie Wilson (1922, Cedarville, CA – 2017, Athens, Greece) emerged from her Northern California upbringing with a conviction that she had “been born an artist.” After studying art at Mills College, Oakland, and the University of California, Berkeley, she entered the Bay Area’s vibrant postwar avant-garde, guided by the Greek artist Jean Varda and British surrealist Gordon Onslow Ford, and was drawn into the intellectual circle of the influential Dynaton movement.

Her move to Paris in 1952 with Austrian surrealist and theorist Wolfgang Paalen marked a turning point. She worked with the leading figures of European surrealism, notably André Breton, the co-founder of the movement, who exhibited her alongside other surrealists’ works and included her in avant-garde journals and reviews. During this period she deepened her engagement with automatism, occultism, and global spiritual traditions. Early works from this period fused lyrical abstraction with biomorphic, mosaic-like forms, reflecting a synthesis of surrealist experimentation and her longstanding interest in Indigenous American, pre-Columbian, and other non-Western iconographies.

By the mid-1950s, Wilson had forged an unmistakable, signature style: symmetrical, meticulously rendered, spiritually charged compositions that she approached with intense concentration and an almost ritualistic method. Inspired by "outsider" visionaries such as Fleury Joseph Crépin and Augustin Lesage, she developed a deliberate form of automatism. Her work from this period and beyond, including collaborations with her husband, the poet Nanos Valaoritis, reveals a visual language that echoes Navajo sand paintings, Tibetan mandalas, and Pacific Northwest art—a confluence of the cosmic and the totemic. She once described her process as such:

“When I look at an empty canvas, I go to the center automatically. Usually, I start a little above center, and draw a dot or maybe a little shadow there—something. Then I put another bit to the right and to the left, and then above and then below. It’s like a cross. I work like that, as if I were making lace. I invent it as I go. I am not starting with an idea. I don’t know where or what I am going to do when I begin a drawing or a painting.”