Dear Readers,

It's our fourth annual LA issue!

What exactly does that mean, one might ask, especially of a magazine that already comes from Los Angeles? I've asked myself that question a thousand times (after people started giving me flak about having an LA issue). I've decided it's kind of like a birthday party we throw for Artillery every year: it marks another year in publication, it's our last issue before the fall art season. And besides, this is our home, damnit, and we'll take any excuse to celebrate. Generally speaking, in our annual LA issue we talk about our fair city and how great it is: how much better the art is, how much better our artists are, how much better our schools are, and how much better our galleries are. Basically, how superior the City of Angels is compared to other cities.

That's not just hubris: It becomes especially obvious when you leave town. One sees more Los Angeles art outside of the city than here at home. For instance, when I was in Madrid recently, I literally bumped into a piece on a boulevard by Daniel Joseph Martinez (our Guest Lecture this issue). When I go to New York, it's uncanny how many solo shows of LA artists I encounter there.

There's really no question that art is happening in LA, the real question is why? Outsiders marvel at our sunshine and celebrities, but that wasn't what drew me to the West Coast. To me, those are the two least attractive features of Southern California. I get tired of the perfect weather, and movie stars are as distant as the hidden planets in our polluted skies. The perpetual sunny days only seem to highlight a quality of phoniness. It feels like a movie set, where the lighting is constant and fake. Everyday it's the same. It starts to gnaw at me.

This love/hate relationship with Los Angeles is what this city really has going for it. Like the most thriving plant in our state, the cactus —it's great to look at, but untouchable. It's the perfect metaphor for how LA works. You can come here to get famous, yet you can also come here to be invisible.

That dichotomy is reflected in the art being made here. Consider the work of John Baldessari, who graces our cover and is interviewed by staff writer Ezrha Jean Black. Would he have produced such a substantial body of work involving film stills if he hadn't been living in LA? Baldessari is a victim of Hollywood and sunshine, but his work embraces it. I stay here because of the edge that exists in LA and its people. Outsiders don't see or understand that edge. It's hard to explain unless you live here. Maybe it's our stewing earthquakes, or maybe it's the absence of cultural convention. This conundrum becomes part of every Angeleno's daily existence. We have freedom like no other city. We get in our cars to get away, but then we get stuck in traffic, or there's nowhere to park.

LA is complicated that way, and this complexity can work to an artist's advantage. In this issue we talk to the artists that have stuck around and stood the test of time. We even venture into Hollywood, that odious territory where celebrities live second lives as wannabe artists. Artillery embraces all of LA and do we really have to explain why? We're just having a little party, and hope you'll come along. If you can find parking.

—Tulsa Kinney