{"id":20790,"date":"2026-02-04T01:13:50","date_gmt":"2026-02-04T01:13:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/nationalgunowner.org\/index.php\/2026\/02\/04\/meet-the-collector-john-jonas-on-living-with-art\/"},"modified":"2026-02-04T01:13:58","modified_gmt":"2026-02-04T01:13:58","slug":"meet-the-collector-john-jonas-on-living-with-art","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nationalgunowner.org\/index.php\/2026\/02\/04\/meet-the-collector-john-jonas-on-living-with-art\/","title":{"rendered":"Meet the Collector: John Jonas On Living With Art"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Jonas\u2019s light-filled Williamsburg apartment was designed by Labscape specifically to house his collection, now spanning more than 100 works. Photo: Arno Reyes Baetz for Observer<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

When one grows up in a family of prominent art collectors, it\u2019s not uncommon to outright reject collecting as a pastime or to chart a very different course from one\u2019s parents. New York art collector John Jonas<\/a>, who opened his apartment overlooking the Williamsburg Bridge to Observer on a cold Saturday in early January, did both, first eschewing collecting altogether and then approaching his own collection from a place of preference and passion. That collection, which spans more than 100 works by European postwar masters, Dansaekhwa pioneers and contemporary artists, hangs in said apartment, which was designed specifically to house it.<\/p>\n

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Jonas was raised amid masterpieces by Abstract Expressionist figures such as Mark Rothko<\/a>, Morris Louis<\/a> and Willem de Kooning<\/a>, as well as works by contemporary artists like Isamu Noguchi<\/a> and Joseph Cornell<\/a>. His parents began collecting early, guided by one of the sharpest advisors available at the time: Diane Waldman, then a leading curator at the Guggenheim, where Barbara Jonas<\/a> served on the board. In a youthful act of rebellion, Jonas distanced himself from family expectations, embracing a bohemian life in the Village. He pursued his love of jazz, playing the saxophone and immersing himself in creative circles. \u201cI had several friends who were artists; I spent time with them, saw their work and would play music while they were creating art.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"John\"John
John Jonas at home. Photo: Arno Reyes Baetz for Observer<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

At one point, Jonas lived in Maine, where he grew close to local painter Carlo Pittore<\/a>. The relationship proved formative, sharpening his eye and deepening his love of art\u2014even as he remained distanced from his family\u2019s collecting activities. At the time, Jonas occasionally acquired works from friends, often as gifts or gestures of support. It wasn\u2019t until much later that he began collecting with intention\u2014a practice he\u2019s maintained steadily for the past 15 years.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was walking through The Armory Show<\/a> with a friend when I saw a painting and thought, \u2018wow.\u2019 I spoke with the woman who was running the gallery, we made a deal, and that was it,\u201d Jonas recalls, describing his first acquisition: a cinematic close-up of a woman\u2019s face by German artist Florian S\u00fcssmayr<\/a>, now hanging near a library filled with art books and artists\u2019 catalogs. Largely self-taught, Jonas has always followed his instinct, buying only what resonated with him\u2014what he truly loved. \u201cI didn\u2019t grow up going to galleries or fairs with my parents. We were on completely different tracks. They thought I was crazy when I decided to play saxophone instead of pursuing a business career.\u201d<\/p>\n

After that transformative purchase, he began navigating the art world on his own, in part to preserve the creative energy of those early Village years. \u201cI started going on my own to fairs, galleries and eventually auctions,\u201d he says. \u201cFairs were a huge education for me. You go, you see everything, you start to understand what you like and what you don\u2019t. You see certain artists repeatedly and suddenly think, \u2018Wait a minute, I think I like this artist.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Although his choices have remained deeply personal, Jonas has also worked with advisors from time to time. The gallerist who sold him his first painting later guided him toward other pieces, including a bright, poetic watercolor of a young girl by Kim McCarthy and a work by Callum Innes from her own collection, which Jonas immediately loved. Others he discovered entirely on his own, such as an abstract piece by Hagen Mark<\/a> he spotted at a fair. \u201cOver time, it became more serious\u2014and honestly, more addictive,\u201d he says of his relationship with art.<\/p>\n

\"Interior\"Interior
Works by European postwar masters and contemporary artists coexist, reflecting a collecting practice guided by instinct and passion. Photo: Arno Reyes Baetz for Observer<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Eventually, Jonas became comfortable buying at auction, moving fluidly between the primary and secondary markets. Advisors offered input, but he continued to gravitate toward fairs and galleries, shaping his collection according to his own taste. \u201cI always feel gratified when someone looks at the collection and says, \u2018This feels like a truly personal collection. It\u2019s really you. It\u2019s an extension of who you are.\u2019 When I hear that, it means a lot to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Auctions became especially compelling when he developed an early interest in Dansaekhwa\u2014well before prices for its key figures began to soar. About 10 years ago, Jonas traveled to Korea with Belgian advisor and dealer Vincent Matthieu<\/a>, whom he\u2019d met at a dinner hosted by Tina Kim<\/a> and who has since become a close friend and a key companion in his collecting journey. \u201cWe attended all the auctions\u2014we were essentially the only Westerners there at the time,\u201d he recalls. \u201cWe visited Park Seo-Bo<\/a>\u2019s studio, Hyundai Gallery<\/a>, Kukje Gallery<\/a>, Hakgojae and others. I ended up buying works by many of the masters. Some I bought at auction\u2014sometimes waking up at three in the morning because that\u2019s when the Korean auctions were happening.\u201d That\u2019s how Jonas acquired two historical works by Lee Ufan<\/a> and Park Seo-Bo at prices dramatically different from today\u2019s market for the postwar pioneers.<\/p>\n

Around the same time, in 2005, his parents, Donald and Barbara Jonas\u2014who had made their fortune in the housewares retail business\u2014decided to part with their collection, consigning it to Christie\u2019s<\/a>. The two-day postwar and contemporary sale was a major success, bringing in $170,955,400, then a record for the category. Fifteen works from the Jonas collection accounted for a significant portion of the sale, with three among the top lots of the evening: a 1949 Willem de Kooning abstraction, a 1964 Mark Rothko color field painting and a powerful Franz Kline<\/a> from 1958. It set new records for several artists, including Arshile Gorky<\/a>, Franz Kline, Joseph Cornell and Isamu Noguchi\u2014a testament to the strength of the works they had acquired. Approximately $44 million was raised from the Jonas works alone, which the family planned to donate in full to establish a charitable legacy.<\/p>\n

Jonas\u2019s parents felt they \u201chad been extremely fortunate and it was time to give back.\u201d \u201cWe\u2019re truly just custodians of these works,\u201d Barbara Jonas told ArtNews at the time<\/a>. \u201cThe art in their collection became the foundation of our philanthropic work. Everything we\u2019ve been able to do over the past eighteen years comes from the paintings that were once on their walls,\u201d Jonas says, recalling how, when his father first suggested selling the art, his mother replied, \u201cOver my dead body.\u201d Ultimately, they sold about two-thirds of it, and then eventually, all of it. \u201cBecause of that art, we\u2019ve been able to do an enormous amount over the last 18 years, and we\u2019ll continue to do so.\u201d All proceeds from the Christie\u2019s sale went to the Jewish Communal Fund. Subsequent sales from the remaining third of the collection\u2014administered by Jonas after his parents\u2019 passing\u2014helped fund Jonas Philanthropies, which the couple formally created a year later, in 2006, while they were still alive.<\/p>\n

\"John\"John
Periodically rehanging the collection has become part of Jonas\u2019s process, allowing new relationships and connections between works to emerge. Photo: Arno Reyes Baetz for Observer<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Today, John Jonas serves as co-president of Jonas Philanthropies, the family foundation focused on supporting nursing leadership, vision health and environmental health. Over time, the organization has expanded to include initiatives in mental health, professional nursing education, veterans\u2019 services, children\u2019s environmental well-being and vision care\u2014particularly through the Jonas Children\u2019s Vision Care program established in 2016.<\/p>\n

Seeing the success of the Christie\u2019s sale\u2014and what his parents were able to accomplish with the proceeds\u2014further solidified Jonas\u2019s view that art can operate as value on multiple levels. \u201cMy parents bought out of passion, but they also worked with an incredible advisor. They were lucky and smart, and the works they purchased skyrocketed in value. That left a real impression on me\u2014that art isn\u2019t just beautiful, it can also be a very interesting asset allocation. It can appreciate enormously,\u201d he reflects, acknowledging that early on he, too, considered collecting not only as a passion but as a potential investment.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen you start collecting, that idea naturally enters your mind\u2014maybe this could become something more,\u201d Jonas says. He recalls how many collectors like him, especially during the boom years, couldn\u2019t help but ask: Will this be worth more? Is this a good buy? Advisors often reinforced that logic, saying, \u201cThis is going up,\u201d or \u201cThis artist is hot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can easily slip into buying something because you think it will appreciate rather than because you truly love it. I definitely drank that Kool-Aid for a while,\u201d he admits. At times, that meant acquiring two works\u2014one to keep, the other with resale in mind. But that strategy never fully satisfied him. \u201cIf it doesn\u2019t work out, you\u2019re left with something you don\u2019t love, and then you ask yourself, Why did I buy this? So I don\u2019t really do that anymore. Even if someone tells me something is going up, if I don\u2019t love it, I don\u2019t care.\u201d<\/p>\n

Still, looking around his light-filled apartment today, it\u2019s clear some works have appreciated\u2014particularly on the historical side. That includes pieces by Dansaekhwa pioneers such as Park Seo-Bo, Ha Chong-Hyun<\/a>, Lee Dong-Youb and Lee Ufan, as well as works by more established contemporary artists, including Lisa Yuskavage<\/a>, Flora Yukhnovich<\/a>, Donna Huanca<\/a> and Marguerite Humeau<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\"Installation\"Installation
A dedicated gallery zone welcomes rotation, conversation and careful viewing under a specially calibrated lighting system. Photo: Arno Reyes Baetz for Observer<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

There was one painting Jonas loved so deeply he never imagined parting with it\u2014until it reached six times its purchase price. \u201cAt the time I thought, well, six times fifty is three hundred, and I can buy a lot of art for three hundred,\u201d he says. \u201cSo I gave up that one in order to afford many more.\u201d Selling, in that sense, became a way to let the collection evolve. Over 16 years, tastes shift, priorities change and the collector changes, too.<\/p>\n

Today, historical masters hang alongside rising artists such as Iva Lulashi<\/a>, Hilda Palafox<\/a>, Amy Bravo<\/a>, Emma Beatrez and Sani\u00e9 Bonkhari, as well as Nate Lewis<\/a>, Manuel Solano<\/a>, Simon Benjamin<\/a>, Andrew Sendor<\/a> and Rodrigo Ram\u00edrez<\/a>\u2014all seamlessly integrated into the interior\u2019s serene palette and elegantly minimal forms.<\/p>\n

Jonas\u2019s new apartment, formed by combining two units on the 26th floor of a building along the Williamsburg waterfront, was designed by Labscape with the specific goal of welcoming his extensive collection. The layout allows for swift rotation of works and integrates the art into the living space so it can be appreciated at any moment of the day. To that end, they conceived a flexible \u201cgallery space\u201d with movable walls that create changing configurations and encourage conversation, while a carefully calibrated lighting system enhances each piece. \u201cSince I have a large collection of art, we built movable walls and panels to display it. With so many windows, we needed ways to create additional wall space,\u201d he says. \u201cEven now, there\u2019s still a lot of art I can\u2019t hang\u2014some of it ends up in bathrooms, some of it stays in storage. I still have plenty more than I can show at once.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Gallery\"Gallery
Jonas\u2019s apartment integrates art into everyday life, with works installed along the corridors, workspaces and windows overlooking the East River. Photo: Arno Reyes Baetz for Observer<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Jonas handled most of the curation himself, and rehanging the collection became a way to surface connecting threads and recurring themes. \u201cYou start to see the connections between different choices. That process is actually one of the most enjoyable parts for me,\u201d he says, recalling how, when he worked in his father\u2019s housewares store, arranging art prints on the wall was always his favorite task. \u201cYou could play with relationships and composition. That\u2019s exactly what I enjoy doing at home.\u201d<\/p>\n

When asked to identify the biggest evolution in his collecting, Jonas points to clarity. \u201cUsually, now I know right away if I like something. I do like to get secondary opinions from people I trust, but there are certain themes that run consistently through my collecting: one is women. One is innocence. And one is a kind of minimalism. You could probably place most of the works in the collection into one of those three categories.\u201d<\/p>\n

If Jonas grew up surrounded by the expressive force of Abstract Expressionism, the early phase of his own collecting leaned toward restraint, neutral palettes and a sense of order. \u201cI was initially drawn to postwar abstraction that focused on signs, markings and restrained gestures,\u201d he says, recalling how, after the Dansaekhwa pioneers, he gravitated toward European figures such as Hans Hartung<\/a> and Italians like Agostino Bonalumi<\/a> and Piero Dorazio<\/a>. \u201cMinimalist aesthetics were close to me. I bought works that related to grids and reduced compositions\u2014blue backgrounds, structured surfaces, works very close to the Frank Stella<\/a> drawing I have.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"A\"A
Works from his collection are arranged to reveal recurring themes, including women, innocence and his early love for minimalism. Photo: Arno Reyes Baetz for Observer<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Eventually, the palette became almost too restrained. With so many white works, his living room turned entirely white. \u201cIf I bought another one, I would have had to jump out the window,\u201d he jokes. \u201cThe calm, serenity and quiet of those works really mattered to me. But eventually I wanted to move somewhere else, and that\u2019s when color entered the picture.\u201d<\/p>\n

After years of collecting historical names, Jonas grew increasingly interested in discovering and supporting living artists\u2014often at early stages in their careers. \u201cI rediscovered the excitement of participating, of supporting young careers, of being early. There\u2019s something thrilling about finding someone you believe in and committing to that,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

Attending fairs with a younger advisor gave him the chance to meet artists directly, learn about their work firsthand and appreciate the human presence behind it. That closeness eventually led him to become a patron, supporting artists and backing a New York contemporary gallery focused on emerging voices in its expansion. \u201cThis gave me closer access to artists themselves and their work, in a way that galleries often don\u2019t. It allowed for a more direct relationship, rather than being kept at a distance,\u201d he reflects.<\/p>\n

Entering the ultracontemporary space during the boom years\u2014with waiting lists and BOGO deals<\/a>\u2014Jonas occasionally found himself donating works to museums in order to gain access to artists he genuinely wanted to collect. One such case involved Nate Lewis, for whom he donated a work to the Carnegie Museum. Still, that maneuver, he says, ultimately helped forge a more direct and trusting relationship with the artist that later granted access to stronger works and, in some cases, commissions.<\/p>\n

\"Dining\"Dining
The collection reflects Jonas\u2019s growing interest in supporting living artists across generations and geographies. Photo: Arno Reyes Baetz for Observer<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Looking ahead, Jonas says he wants to remain close to artists, which is why he designed his apartment to welcome both the art and the people behind it. \u201cFor example, to get a beautiful sculpture by Eli Ping<\/a>, I contacted him directly on Instagram. I asked for images, shared photos of where the work would live, and invited him over. He came for lunch. I got to know him. That\u2019s incredibly meaningful. If that\u2019s patronage, I don\u2019t know, but getting closer to artists like this is deeply rewarding, because they\u2019re people\u2014and through that relationship, you understand the work differently.\u201d<\/p>\n

Like any collector, Jonas has regrets and dream acquisitions. His dream piece has always been an Egon Schiele<\/a>. One of his biggest regrets? Not buying an Avery Singer<\/a> the first time he encountered her work. \u201cThat one always comes to mind,\u201d he says, recalling an early piece shown at an art fair in Paris, when she was still presenting with a small German gallery. Years passed before he acted, and by then, it was out of reach. \u201cAt some point, you say, all right, next case. It\u2019s overpriced now, it\u2019s no longer at a level that makes sense for me, and the moment has passed.\u201d<\/p>\n

A similar story unfolded with Japanese artist Yu Nishimura<\/a>, whom Jonas discovered early on but struggled to access. Though prices have shifted\u2014especially following a stellar year of auction records and David Zwirner<\/a> representation\u2014Jonas recently acquired a piece from Nishimura\u2019s latest show at Cr\u00e8vec\u0153ur<\/a> in Paris. \u201cIt\u2019s a little baby one, and I\u2019d still like to get another. But once the train has left the station that far, it becomes very difficult.\u201d<\/p>\n

Even with a collection so large, Jonas admits he\u2019s never managed to set a strict annual budget. \u201cI\u2019ll tell myself, I shouldn\u2019t buy anymore, I really shouldn\u2019t\u2014and then I do. If I have the money, I can afford it and I love it, then boom. It\u2019s my biggest passion. It\u2019s a passion, it\u2019s an addiction\u2014but it\u2019s a rewarding addiction.\u201d<\/p>\n

Taken broadly, Jonas sees his collecting as a natural extension of his engagement with beauty. \u201cI love art, I love music, I love dance,\u201d he says. \u201cTo be able to live with it, embrace it, learn about it and discover the next piece of beauty in the world\u2014it\u2019s incredible. They\u2019re like my children, you know. And I love all my children.\u201d<\/p>\n

More art collector interviews<\/h3>\n

\t\t\t\t\"Meet<\/p><\/div>\n