Jennifer Johnston, photographer and gallerist
Why she wants you to “get on the river,” how art and food bring people together, and the pursuit of capturing childhood visual memories
Earlier this year, Jennifer Johnston, photographer and gallerist of Three Stones Galleries in Concord and Rockport, MA, took a bold leap, moving one of the galleries to a sizable space in downtown Concord. The new and expanded space allows her the experience of “being on the river,” which she encourages everyone else to do.
The Concord gallery features paintings, mixed media, collage, sculpture, and ceramics. Johnston has created inviting environments that allow visitors to absorb a balance of energetic and meditative artistic expression. Johnston has great faith in her audience and assumes they will delight in her mix of representational and abstract art, urban and natural landscapes, and pieces made from unconventional materials. As a gallerist, she oversees the galleries, selects the artists, plans the shows, and runs the day-to-day business.
What draws you to the art you show?
I’m going to offer a cliché here. If it sparks some part of me, moves me, or intrigues me, or it maybe even puts me off at first … if there’s some kind of pulse there, I have to have it. Most of the time it’s something I’m drawn to but sometimes it’s “oooh, I don’t know about that. I don’t like that.” Then I sit with it to think about why I don’t like it.
Really? Is there an artist or a piece in the gallery that made you feel that way?
Yeaaaaahhh, there’s one. I’m not going to single it out. This artist has other work here. I had a lot of discussions with my manager about that one piece because I didn’t want to include it and she completely differed with me and really liked it and thought it would be a great addition to the wall. We were hanging the whole show the next day. I had trouble with it and really did not want to hang it. I put in in the back room. But she was right, the sequencing of the wall looked a lot better with it.
You refer to this metaphor of being on the river. Tell me about it.
I love water. If you look at my photographs in the gallery right now, what do they have in common? Water. The metaphor of the river certainly is not unique. I was talking to you earlier about what it’s like when we follow our passion. We can think about it, which is great. We can take steps to do it, which is awesome. Then it’s that time in our life when we literally get into the canoe and get on the river with a paddle to live our passion.
For me, about seven years ago, when I opened my first gallery, I found that I loved showing other people’s work. I love the visual arts. I get a lot of joy seeing art that I find to be moving and intriguing. I don’t care who did it. I care most about the piece. It could be mine, or by an emerging artist, or an established artist. I get to have that experience of choosing and exhibiting pieces from a variety of people, with the criteria that it’s an excellent piece of art, no matter what media. There are multiple opportunities to get excited about the art, over and over again.
Running a gallery is what I came to do and I’m so happy I’m doing this. There are good days, and really hard days, frustrating days, magical days. There are so many layers of this business that I’m still learning.
Being on the river, canoeing on the actual river, is canoeing on the energy of my dreams and passions and not sitting on the sidelines to it. I don’t say that in any special way. Most of us yearn to pursue our passion in some area in our life. Whenever I meet an artist who is yearning to do that, I’m the first one to jump up and say, “Please do it!”
I’m hoping that in some way, in every person’s life, whatever time it is—could be at 16 for some and 76 for others—they get in the canoe of living their dreams, however successful or not. That is my hope for every single person. Just to live it and let the pieces fall where they may.
You are running a business. How do you find the balance between showing what you love and what you think will sell?
I don’t know if that’s ever completely resolved. It’s a dance here every day and every choice for shows. I’m mindful of it and I’m still in business. I also know if we were choosing work solely because it was going to sell, I’d have closed up shop in about two months. I couldn’t do it. Luckily, we are in towns—Rockport and Concord—that seem to be simpatico with what we choose naturally, so we are not forcing it. It’s an easy fit.
What have been some of your favorite moments of running this gallery?
How much time do you have? [laughs]. There was a woman who came in and talked about what art meant to her and how nice it was to take a break from the world and to walk around and take it all in and have a respite. She ended up telling me quite a bit of her life story, which was unbelievable, and she shared a lot of her life wisdom with me. She talked about being seriously ill and almost not being here and finding her way through. And what got her through. It touched me deeply and then swoosh, she had to move on to an appointment and I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. That kind of depth of conversation happens frequently.
Also, there’s the moment after we’ve hung a show and we step back. We’re tired, dirty, sweaty, all of that, and we look at the conglomerate of art that has come together. There is such a feeling of joy. It’s like the completion of a song, or a beautifully cooked meal, or a symphony. We don’t know how the parts fit together until the whole thing is hung and when it works well, it’s second to none. The relationship with my gallery team is such a rich part of this experience.
Breaking bread with people is a way to get to know them and have a shared experience. Your story about your recent visitor makes me think art can do the same thing and has some of the same qualities.
It does, and especially when you see people react to art. When you say breaking bread, you mean literally sharing food, right? In art you are sharing visual food and having your own individual responses to it, and then when the conversation goes further about the art, it taps into people’s own stories and experiences.
If you spend time looking at art with someone, that experience can be interesting, beautiful, occasionally upsetting. There are people who come in and really dislike a piece or might be having a rough time. We get all kinds of people coming in here and our philosophy that I care a lot about is we want to be professional and very open and accessible. This is a sanctuary for people and that means all people. It doesn’t matter how much money is in your wallet. It means come in as a human being and come enjoy what we have here.
You’re an artist yourself. Tell me about your photography.
I’ve been doing photography for 30 years. I took many classes and was in the darkroom developing my own film, printing my own color and black and white. I wouldn’t trade any of that, and now it’s digital. It’s been a journey of self-articulation, translating the subtle things I sensed and saw as a child, and putting them into a concrete form that I could share with others.
I’m still at it. I can look back at work I did 30 years ago and say wow, was I off the path here. Now I feel proud of my work and know I have another 30 years to go. I’m getting there—to completely express those moments as a child that seared themselves into my soul—of beauty, of going to my first movie that made me cry.
What was the movie?
I don’t want to tell you. Yes, I’ll tell you! The Sound of Music. It made me cry to see such a rich story so large on a movie screen. That stories could be told that way made me fall in love with film. That this story could be told so big and shared with so many people was incredible to me! As an eight-year-old, I had never had an experience with film like that. It’s like the first real book I read, Jane Eyre.
I’m influenced by my experience with the ocean, the water, the sun. I grew up in Chatham, Massachusetts. On my journey I still want to create work that leads me back there. I didn’t plan to be a gallerist, I was just going to do art.
Did you know as a child you wanted to make art?
I wanted to be an actress! I studied it and was on my way to doing it, then I pivoted to be a creative writing major and wrote plays, short stories, and poems. Then I got a master’s degree in expressive therapies at Lesley University in music and movement therapy and worked in that field for a while. I didn’t take my first photography class until I was 30.
You grew up in the time of 35mm film and you did all the darkroom work, and now you are mostly digital?
Yes, and I miss the darkroom tremendously, but I don’t miss the chemicals. I miss the tactile experience in a darkroom—making prints, developing your own film. But I also do pastels. When I’m doing pastels, mostly oil, I get that tactile sense. If you look at my photographs, they are very tactile.
Who are the photographers you admire?
Julia Margaret Cameron, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Herb Snitzer, a portraitist of jazz musicians, and Eugene Atget.
If you could transport yourself to any place at any time with your camera, where would you go?
I would go 30 or 40 years from now with the hope that this globe will have gotten to the other side of this crisis we are in. And then go another 30 to 40 years later with my camera to document the true beginning of healing of the land.
What kind of doors have opened in your life because of your art?
Spiritual ones. I do think having been an artist for so long and viewing artwork every day has changed the way I see the world and everything, really.
You’ve been showing Jon MacAdam for a long time. What drew you to his art?
He came in when I was in West Concord, and I liked his work and was looking for a landscapist. I noticed right away that I loved how Jon rendered light both in his skies and his water—oceans and rivers. I was drawn to his serenity as a person. His energy was like what exuded from his paintings. Here we are seven years later. He has grown immensely as an artist. He still paints the same subjects, but with ever more expertise. People are drawn to his paintings. They are not unique scenes of marshes and rivers, but there’s a purity that comes through. It’s a talent and skill to channel that onto the canvas.
Malcolm Gladwell says it takes 10,000 hours to get good at something. Do you think that applies to art?
I’m big on inspiration and spontaneity but have come to have deep respect for putting in the time. For most people there’s no way around it. As an athlete growing up, I played tennis, basketball, and soccer, and I realized I was never going to get good unless I put in the time.
Tell me a story about something in this gallery, a story I wouldn’t otherwise know from observing the art.
Robert Steinem is a representational artist with such clarity and precision. His statement says “After an eye injury in the Marines, Steinem quit painting for 20 years, yet the thought of painting kept nagging him … instead of being limited by his legal blindness, he found a way to work through those limitations. An ophthalmologist friend designed special glasses and Steinem reconstructed his easel to make it strong enough to stand on. His detailed work requires an almost ‘nose to canvas’ approach.”
Lightning-round questions (People often bond over food and art, and here are quick questions about both)
Favorite breakfast: You are going to laugh: coffee and peanut butter.
Peanut butter on a spoon? Yes.
Black or red licorice?
Red
Most memorable meal
Martha’s Vineyard, Edgartown, when I was working there as a college student. It was mushroom cheese quiche, green salad with the most delicious dressing I’ve ever tasted, and lemonade.
You get to invite 6 people—living or dead—to your dinner party. Who is coming?
Hale Makua, a Polynesian shaman. I love tennis, so I’d want to have Venus and Serena Williams, and Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer. Hard not to say Georgia O’Keefe and Alfred Stieglitz.
We will put a leaf in the table so Stieglitz can join.
I would also include an ancestor of mine, Orin Foster, my great, great grandfather.
What would you serve them?
I would cook my chicken stir fry, corn on the cob, artichokes, and raspberry chocolate cake with a beautiful red wine.
What camera do you use?
A Canon mirrorless.
Do you have a lot of lenses?
I have two, and I will spend money on what I need, but I don’t want the toots and whistles to get in the way. Simple is better for me.
Most captivating museum visit
Jeu de Pomme in Paris, a small museum with Impressionist paintings.
Favorite art you own
I just received it. It’s a drawing of a Labrador retriever and it’s based on a stamp that’s very valuable and that my dad who just passed away had given me. It signifies his love of art and love of dogs and our relationship.
An artist, writer, or other creative person you admire that others might find surprising
Filmmaker Ingmar Bergman. He did a film, Fanny and Alexander, about a beautiful tapestry of life and love and food and family and then it cuts to an austere existence when the family’s father dies.
Palate & Palette menu for Jennifer Johnston
Here’s what the cooks at Palate & Palette would serve if Jennifer came over for dinner, which she is encouraged to do:
Salad of baby lettuces, fresh figs, toasted walnuts, and Burrata with a champagne vinaigrette
Shrimp with Romesco sauce
Roasted carrots with yogurt and pistachios
Steamed millet
Watermelon granita
Where to find Jennifer Johnston and Three Stones:
32 Main St., Concord, MA
10c Main St., Rockport, MA
https://www.threestonesgallery.com/home
Question for readers: Share in the comments: Johnston was moved by seeing Sound of Music as a child. What childhood movie had that kind of impact on you?