Marin Burnett was born in the summer of 1980 in New York City and has degrees in political science and public policy from Williams College in Massachusetts and George Washington University. She has never received formal training as an artist, instead turning to art for solace and catharsis.
To escape from a stressful career, Marin started painting at age 25—first in acrylics, now in soft pastels, charcoal, oils, and mixed media using handmade papers and bespoke patterned fabrics as a way to set the backdrop, mood, and meaning of her portraits. What started as a casual hobby quickly became a passion for creating. Marin turned to portraiture about nine years ago and now paints portraits that capture the souls of her subjects and tell stories about their history, struggles, and joys. Capturing a likeness is not just rote reproduction, but a challenge to display the uniqueness of each person’s humanity.
Marin is currently the Chief Strategy Officer for the Port of Seattle and lives in Renton with her husband Erik, son Dominic, and fur baby Cricket Blue.

“I have always been strong-willed and held strong opinions. I have often had to smooth my rough edges to make people listen. I had to be less sharp, less loud, and take up less space as we women–black, white, or purple–are taught to do.
“Art has given me an avenue to break free and make big imposing statements about the world where I live uncompromisingly. Art has made me braver and more nuanced in my life, my opinions, and the company I keep.
“Art balances me. I use my right brain extensively in my life. Being a self-taught artist, I didn't know I was creative or that I could create until well into my 20s. I thought that my analytical brain was all that was at my disposal. Art has shown me another side of myself and that side needs room to stretch, breathe, and take up space. If it doesn't, I am unbalanced and less whole. So whether people are interested in my art or not, if I never show or sell another piece, I will still make art. I will draw people and try to capture what is inside each of them. It's part of what makes me, me.”

“I am haunted by a myriad of experiences in my life, the space I occupy as a Black woman. This is standard. A seminal experience is that of being consistently misunderstood, misinterpreted, and never belonging. I was born and raised in New York in a poor neighborhood, but went to private schools with rich kids with whom I had nothing in common. I was not one of them and never would be. When I went home I was the outsider there because I was rarely around, talked funny, was the "private school girl." There was no place for me to belong.
“This is something that all Black women suffer with, thrive through, and learn from. So we learn to carve facets into ourselves. There is the face you show your family, the one you show your boss, another you show your friends and community. We even switch languages and dialects to suit our environment and make sure we can be heard and understood.
“As a result, many of my pieces, in particular the Refracted Saints, show Black women being "broken," bent, refracted, and put back together. This represents the multi-faceted way we have been forced to live and interact with the world. It doesn't diminish us, it makes us stronger and more brilliant, but it is part of our plight as well. Living in all worlds and none”

“All artists have an obligation to react to the moment because the gift of art is not for the artist but for the world. Black Lives Matter, Me Too, the bane of Trumpism and the intolerance it espouses have created an all-hands-on-deck situation for anyone with a voice and a platform, however large or small.
“My unique voice and perspective are shown through visual art in a way I cannot express by other means. I can show what it's like to be the invisible Black girl in "They All Have Names," a piece dedicated to missing Black girls and womxn who are forgotten and ignored.
“I can depict the evolution of Black womanhood and reclaim our space and culture through "The Evolution of Hattie," a piece dedicated to the power of Black women as we evolved from the Mammy ("Hattie" is Hattie McDaniel, the original Mammy), a plastic figure with a painted smile, to the powerful woman wearing Oshun yellow, smiling for no one but herself on her own terms.
“I can speak to my Black life mattering, my sexual power being reclaimed, my liberalism defending those furthest from justice... all with the power of my artwork and visual voice. If I can, then we all can. We all should.”

Marin Burnett

Brandon Vosika

Morgan Madison