Artist d’Elaine Johnson’s brick house overlooks Puget Sound on the Edmonds bluff. It is surrounded by tall trees and a well-groomed lawn; her late husband, John, was passionate about landscaping and took care of it.
Johnson had built a “man cave” for John, who died in 2009. “I’ll show you what I did to his man cave,” Johnson, now 94, said as she opened the door to a detached part of the house.
The space was previously furnished with a couch, kitchenette and fireplace.
Now, all of that is either blocked or has been replaced by metal racks filled with paintings, some more than 7 feet tall, inspired by nature and nautical mythology. Of those, Johnson counts 29 that she has completed within just the past year.
Inside the house are trinkets Johnson collects, such as a small, wood-carved boat in a glass bottle and a turquoise glass ball hanging from the ceiling.
“It's a buoy. It floated over from Japan with this growth,” Johnson said, referring to barnacles covering it.
It is important to Johnson to “live in the middle of inspiration.”
“I use this sort of as my theme park,” she said. In the former man cave, a photo of John and a note he wrote are still taped to the wall. The note, from the day he cleared his things out of this space, reads “because I love you.”
Johnson finds inspiration in her house, and she hopes that it can help launch another creative person’s career. She is donating the paintings — about 1,500 pieces — and the house to Edmonds College to support scholarships for art and horticulture students. The property is valued at $1.4 million, according to Snohomish County records.
The house and the college
In the early 1980s, Johnson was among the local arts leaders who wanted to turn Edmonds into a creative hub. A group convened at her house to start those discussions, including the leader of Edmonds College at the time, whom Johnson befriended.
Although Johnson never worked at the college or held a formal title, she said it became a point of connection.
“I brought in programs. I brought in people. I brought in advice. I had an open door to the president — and that’s my family,” she said. For her, families inherit everything.
Lillian Sherman, executive director of the Edmonds College Foundation, said Johnson has been in touch with leadership at the arts department throughout the years.
“She is definitely, like, patron saint,” Sherman said.
Johnson held an annual tradition at her home, inviting the college choir to celebrate their graduation with song, a meal and games of frisbee and croquet until the wee hours of the morning.
“She has pictures of them standing with the beautiful Salish Sea behind them, singing,” Sherman said. “She loves having students around her. She’s forever a teacher.”
Johnson taught art at Seattle high schools, including at Roosevelt High, until she was forced to retire at 47 due to issues with her vision. She was born legally blind in her right eye and partially blind in her left, though that didn’t stop her from making art or helping young people.
Johnson and her husband decided to donate their estate to the college in the 1990s. A message from John about the gift is mentioned in his obit. John said when the two made the bequest they put their trust "in the most secure investments possible, the hearts and minds of our worthy young people.
"To you we give our blessings, our wealth, our spirit. We ask only one thing in return. Be the very best that lies within your spirit," the obit reads.
The college plans to archive some of Johnson’s paintings and display others in the community. It will sell the house and use that money for scholarships and to bolster arts programs at the school.
The scholarships will go to high-caliber artists to fulfill Johnson’s vision of the school being a “shining star.”
“In higher ed, it's all about what students are coming for, and it's all STEM and tech and that kind of stuff,” Sherman said. “And yet, her vision is: None of that will happen if we don't have strong arts.”
Once arts classes are brought back, she said, they are “always completely full.”
The need to paint
Johnson got bit by the painting bug early, when her first grade teacher tacked her drawings of “a fishbowl and little fishes” to cork boards in the classroom.
“First grade was my first art exhibition,” she said.
Johnson kept drawing until she graduated from Auburn High School, where instructors pooled money together for a scholarship to send one student to study art at Central Washington University — their alma mater. After strong lobbying from one instructor, they chose Johnson. If it weren’t for that scholarship, Johnson said her religious mother would have pushed her to be a nun or she would have continued to work at the dime store the family owned in Auburn.
Choosing art as a career came with its own set of challenges, Johnson said; in the male-dominated industry her work was not taken seriously. Johnson eventually started signing her paintings using her first name, d’Elaine, to disguise her identity as a female painter and avoid controversy.
“I wanted my energy to go into moving forward — just being who I am, an unsophisticated woman who has the disease of having to paint,” Johnson said.
‘Survivor qualities’
Back at the house, Johnson converted her garage into a woodworking shop.
Inside, saw dust covered the floor and one light bulb illuminated a large work bench in the middle of the room. Amid all the clutter was heavy machinery that could take a chunk out of your finger.
Johnson still uses all these tools, including a machine she called a “wood chopper.”
“So I get my wood ready for my chopping,” Johnson said, loading a piece of wood onto the machine. “And it slices.”
She taught herself how to use it all – the chopper and some saws – through trial and error, though it was more error than trial, she said.
Johnson calls herself a “depression baby.” She grew up learning how to sew, cook and iron shirts.
“I have survivor qualities. I don’t wait for the world to do it for me,” Johnson said.
She plans to keep using these tools for another 6 years, until she reaches 100.
“I still have some stories to finish. I feel that I can have my stories finished by then,” she said. Asked if she hoped to continue painting until then, Johnson said, “Well, why not? That’s me. I can’t stop being me.”
