John Mark Johnson

In Loving Memory of John Mark Johnson 

Mark Johnson was the stuff of legends—equal parts rugged mountain man, sensitive artist, and stubborn old cuss. He left this world on February 6, 2025, at the age of 72. To those who knew him, it is just as probable that he slipped through a hidden portal in the Blue Ridge Foothills, off to barter with some unsuspecting antique dealer in another realm.

Born with a love for the unusual and the well-worn, Mark spent his younger days crafting leather goods and traveling the Southeastern art circuit with his wife, Collyandré. Later, he built homes that were as much art as architecture, each one infused with his own personal magic (and possibly a few secret compartments).

Despite his many trades, there was one standing appointment he never missed—Wednesday mornings at the Pickens flea market, where he collected treasures of questionable value but undeniable charm. Every item had a story, and if it didn’t, he would make up one. He had a knack for turning a simple conversation into a legendary tale.

He loved the solitude of the mountains and was as ornery as an Appalachian storm cloud, but beneath his tough exterior was a man who loved deeply and fiercely. Mark leaves behind his daughter, Elena Eloise Johnson, and his son, Turin Dain Johnson. He has now reunited with his beloved Collyandré and all the souls who walked the path before him. 

The day he passed, a rare humpback anglerfish—an ancient deep-sea creature rarely seen by human eyes—was spotted swimming toward daylight off the coast of Tenerife. Some say she was his guide, called forth to escort him into the great beyond. Others suspect Mark simply made a bargain with the universe to leave behind one last mystery.

A celebration of Mark’s life will be held on March 22, 2025 at his home. Stop by the flea market beforehand; find something small, something odd, something Mark would’ve appreciated, and bring it with you to place on the altar. We invite you to honor him in the way he would’ve wanted: take a drive down winding backroads, name the plants and trees you love, enjoy a stiff drink, haggle over something you absolutely don’t need, and never—ever—let the truth get in the way of a good story.