BRICK BY BRICK

Brick by Brick

Seattle art world veteran Judith Rinehart, who’s worked in some of the city’s toniest galleries, steps out of the white box to open a space of her own.

By RACHEL GALLAHER Portrait by NATE WATTERS

“I AM A FIRM BELIEVER THAT YOU HAVE TO HAVE A BRICK-ANDMORTAR SPACE TO SHOW ART,” says gallerist Judith Rinehart over coffee in Seattle on a cloudy June morning. Dressed all in black and wearing a metallic gold lambskin necklace by area jewelry designer Rachel Ravitch, the redheaded Rinehart looks straight out of Manhattan, and she has the confidence and drive to match. “Even in today’s tech-and-social-media-driven world, people want to experience art firsthand. It’s important to me to create a more inclusive setting for young collectors, and help build up the local art community along the way.”

Rinehart is talking about her forthcoming venture: the eponymous J. Rinehart Gallery, slated to open in October just north of the city’s art-centric Pioneer Square. Drawing on 12 years of experience (she formerly worked as gallery manager at the bicoastal Winston Wächter Fine Art and at Foster/White Gallery), Rinehart hopes to create a welcoming space where regional contemporary art will mix with relaxed hospitality—a gallery encouraging the art-curious millennial set to mix with seasoned patrons while offering work at accessible price points to kickstart early collectors. “I want to have a wall where everything is $1,000 or under,” she says, »

OPPOSITE: Gallerist Judith Rinehart. THIS PAGE, FROM TOP: Guy Merrill, Puget Sound Object (2016). Meggan Joy, Breaking Point (2019).

Daisy Patton, Untitled (Woman with Green Leaves and Charcoal Flowers) (2019).

“so emerging collectors or those with a limited budget will have a great selection to choose from [instead of] one or two token tiny objects.”

The core of J. Rinehart Gallery, aside from the art, will be a central living room–like arrangement of furniture that encourages visitors to sit down and actually talk to one another, rather than Instagramming and breezing out the door. “I first tried this idea in a public setting last year at [the Seattle] Art Fair,” says Rinehart, who designed Winston Wächter’s booth—which included a casual cluster of couches and chairs—for the three-day event. “It became a hangout spot. You’d walk by and see groups of people sitting down, taking a rest, talking about the things they’d seen that day. It’s more approachable. And it gives people a more accurate idea of what it’s like to live with the art.”

Soon after the fair, Rinehart began strategizing her leap to gallery owner, something that has been in the back of her mind for years. “I still remember the thrill of buying my first piece of art,” she says of Ben Darby’s New Mexico painting that currently hangs in her bedroom. “My absolute favorite thing is to watch people fall in love with a painting, a sculpture, or a photo, and I’ve always wanted to create my own space to do that.” Her roster includes 11 Pacific Northwest artists (she plans to focus on the region) whose work ranges from Kelda Martensen’s handprinted collages to Shaun Kardinal’s geometric embroidered-paper creations. Beyond their shared locale, Rinehart chose artists who were all previously unrepresented. “There is a really unique, interesting story behind each piece,” she says. “They all make you stop and say, ‘I have more questions about this.’”

J. Rinehart Gallery will debut at this year’s Seattle Art Fair (August 1-4) with Fierce Florals, featuring pieces by Daisy Patton, Meggan Joy, and Jennifer Zwick. The exhibition will be a harbinger of the type of fresh, inventive creative work that Rinehart plans to have on rotation in the future. And unlike some in Seattle’s ever-changing, often-lambasted art world, Rinehart has hopeful visions of the future of her city’s galleries. “There’s a void here that’s been left by the closing and moving of so many local galleries,” she says. “I want to create a space to help fill that, one that’s beneficial to both the artists and the collectors. We’re all in this together.” h

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COURTESY THE ARTIST Anne Dessing, Harold’s Chicken Shack Chicago (2018).