Byline: Tulsa Kinney

Dear Readers  

Happy New Year! Last October I was invited to moderate a panel titled: “Is Art our Last Safe Place?” The general topic was whether art could be healing in times of war, poverty, starvation, overpopulation …you know, all that stuff that just keeps getting worse. The conversation drifted into whether artists have a responsibility to respond to worldwide oppression and address it in their artwork.

Most of the audience and panel appeared surprised to consider that artists have any responsibility to address any particular thing in their art. Artists shouldn’t have to do anything! I was somewhat on the fence; I used Picasso’s masterpiece Guernica, as an example to illustrate how the artist must have felt the need to respond to the war at the time; Picasso is not known as a political artist per se.

I find myself now thinking about this topic again, with our new president and his cabinet and the frightening times that surely lie ahead. If I were an artist today, making art like I used to, I wonder if I would be willing to switch gears and start addressing all this in my work. I was an artist during the Bush years; I confess, I don’t recall any anti-Bush paintings or even any war protest posters made by my hand. I was busy painting my fucked-up family, video-taping my alcoholic father, playing a therapist, all in the name of art.

I haven’t made art now for 10 years—as long as I’ve been writing these letters. So I wonder, what if I were making art now? Would I turn my video camera away from my own personal problems and suddenly start making art about the real world that exists outside myself?

Just as much as I don’t like being censored, I don’t like being told what to do. Since I don’t create art anymore, I really can’t answer that question.

Did Picasso paint Guernica because he felt he should? I don’t think so. That painting wouldn’t look like it does if he was just going through the motions (and we do know Picasso was capable of that). Making art is about passion. Picasso felt passionate about the war, about the world falling apart before his eyes. He had to make Guernica. He had to for himself.

As for me, my fucked-up family has now dispersed and my parents are long-gone. I’m bored with me as my favorite muse. Artillery is now my art, and what matters as an editor is very different from what mattered when I was making art.

In the end, if you’re an artist you must follow your heart, and wherever that takes you, you must paint it, write it, sculpt it, smear or spray it. But for us—the public, the citizen, this magazine—we’ll be keeping an eye out for those who feel moved to engage on the urgent questions of the day.

For this issue, we had assignments already in, but were able to squeeze in a few pieces from regular contributors who felt compelled to deliver on topics they feel passionate about. Tucker Neel rose to the occasion to talk about political caricature. Josh Herman extols the current importance of graffiti, and our Guest Lecture is Harry Gamboa Jr., who weighs in on the LA art world encroaching into the Boyle Heights neighborhood, and how that is affecting hundreds of families in East Los Angeles.

The art world is affected by what’s happening in the real world. And Artillery is responsive to that. I’m still on the fence about whether art can really change things, heal things. But at times like this, one can’t be silent.

Dear Readers  

It’s our Miami issue, meaning this issue goes to Miami. It really doesn’t have anything to do with Miami or the fairs. But it is an issue we designed, content-wise, by what we thought Miami fairgoers might like to read. This year we made it our Interview issue, packed with some of the most interesting artists working today.

We’ve been going to Miami since our first year of publication in 2006. That year we rented a car, filled it with the mags, and drove all the way, taking our time, making stops, tooling around the South like we owned it. Now, 10 years later, we’re planning to drive cross-country again. I’ve been to the Florida fairs several times in between, but it’s been a while. The newness quickly wore off, making it harder to come up with real reasons to go.

But I’m looking forward to going this time. I’m not sure what to expect since so much time has passed. Our first trip to Miami Beach was filled with excitement and wonder. Besides the fairs, it was also my first time in Miami. We went to a Peaches concert on the beach where rows of shipping containers were filled with hip galleries from all over the world, showing off their wares. Back then there were only a handful of satellite fairs and you could still dine at neighborhood mom-and-pop restaurants tucked in alleyways. I’m not expecting those prized gems to still be there; I’m sure a lot has changed. But one thing I’m pretty sure that will be the same is the art. The artworks and art galleries and art dealers and art bars and art parties and art performances and art panels and art dinners and art talks and art tours and oh, yeah, the art.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s some great art to see. But the image-overload can be draining to the point of inspiring cynicism. It’s as if you’re in an art circus, where the elephant in the room is really the missing art. The clown is the distraction: the decorative art, the spectacle art. And the ringleader keeps luring you in: come see the art, come look at the art, come buy the art.

There is no art; the work somehow magically becomes sheer merchandise. Think about it—the art shown at the fairs is work specifically selected to move. Dealers are in fact hoping the art doesn’t come back with them. The galleries are not interested in taking risks; their biggest risk at this point is the financial burden of attending these expensive fairs, and they want to make their money back. So the art you’ll be seeing is safe art, two words that become an oxymoron when combined.

Still, I want to stress that one can find really phenomenal artworks at these fairs. A favorite piece (though I never got the name of the artist) was at a very crowded satellite fair in a big tent. The piece was on the outside wall of a booth; a crudely put-together cardboard replica of a Donald Judd wall-shelf sculpture. I don’t know why, but that’s always stuck out for me. I guess it was refreshing amid all the bronze, gold, steel, fiberglass, manufactured and fabricated… I guess the simplicity of it was soothing to me and playful enough to catch me off guard, yet paid homage to the great artist that invented it.

I liked that. It felt like art to me.

If I only see one thing at this fair in Miami, like the faux Donald Judd that left a lasting impression, maybe that will be good enough. In a place where collectors are chasing that last edition, dealers are pushing the newest fad, artists are trying out their comedy acts, all I can say is: Ladies and Gentlemen, Let the circus begin! Miami, here we come.

Dear Readers  

It’s our birthday! We’re 10 years old this September. I’ve been writing this letter for 10 years—it’s almost unbelievable to me. A decade is always something to pay attention to, I think. A relationship of any kind seems like an accomplishment after 10 years.

Milestones should encourage one to look back and reflect. I practically gag when I see our first Artillery. It’s so raw, so presumptuous, so small! But bold it was, and the rawness was refreshing. We’ve come a long way, for good or for bad.

And that good and bad comes and goes. The embarrassing typo! That one review that kept tormenting us! The gossipy tidbit that drove us to lose our beloved Mitchell Mulholland. The sex issue that lost us advertisers! That Queer issue that nobody wanted to pick up. For better or worse, we’ve learned some lessons along the way.

What’s been a constant though are Artillery’s writers and staff. A loyal lot, and for that, we have survived. Our first issue had a piece on SITE Santa Fe by Ezrha Jean Black, who became our staff writer. John Tottenham wrote about Jeffrey Deitch’s bloody awful mess of a reality TV show. I interviewed Cathy Opie about her Orange County Museum of Art survey show. John Baldessari was our first Guest Lecture. John Waters became our first subscriber. Not a bad lineup. I feel grateful for everyone who participated in that first issue; everyone was rooting for Artillery, our advertisers and our readers.

The choice content for the first issue was easy as pie to put together, mainly because of the vibrant LA art scene already in play. It was apparent there was a huge need for Los Angeles to have its own art magazine. Sure, there were a few art quarterlies floating around, but I’m talking about a magazine covering contemporary art and speaking to a wider audience. Today Artillery is nationally distributed with subscribers all over the world. Now that’s progress!

But what really strikes me after producing this magazine for 10 years is how the art world has changed. It’s almost comical when I think back on the time Tim Blum of Blum & Poe gallery boasted to me of scoring their first million. This was when they had just opened their Culver City gallery (producing a domino effect that is now called the Culver City Arts District). I recall him shouting out “a million dollars!” not unlike the Austin Powers character innocently citing that figure for a ransom deal (a gross understatement being the joke). That dollar amount was astounding then, but it’s peanuts in today’s money-propelled art world. Soon afterwards, Blum & Poe moved across the street into their present gargantuan space. It was astonishing to watch them moving up in the art world (and they continue today, adding galleries in New York and Japan).

So I would say the extreme wealth in the art world would be the most notable change. Contemporary art became a commodity in the auctions like never before. That led to the second major change in Artillery’s fairly young lifetime: the art fairs. The art fairs would become another game-changer in the art world. Most galleries admit that the fairs are the necessary evil to being truly successful these days. One simply has to participate. So eventually, all good galleries pack up their wares and head to the fairs more times a year than they would care to admit. I wonder if in the future that gargantuan gallery space will even be necessary if it’s the fairs that produce the real profits that are being made. Yet the big galleries keep getting bigger: Hauser Wirth & Schimmel, DTLA’s new kid on the block.

My original vision of the magazine has changed too, maybe even grown up a bit. At first I wanted to include everything and everyone. Everything is art—Food, music, TV: It’s all art! I wanted a magazine that was fun to read. The art world is vibrant and exciting. Why shouldn’t an art magazine reflect that?

At first, it seemed like it could be done. Our gossip column, On the Wag: loved and hated; Roll Call: where art stars are celebrities; Ask Babs: an advice columnist who enjoys crushing young artists’ dreams; Retrospect: Mary Woronov sexing up Renoir; Dead or Alive: sardonic comics about dead artists. Many galleries and artists were confused. Apparently I was treading some unknown territory, poking fun at the art world, not taking it seriously enough. It turns out the art world is actually not very good at taking a joke. It prefers to remain an enigma, propped up by the academic jargon that appears in those other magazines.

If there was going to be any joking in the art world, the jokes would have to be pre-approved. But isn’t that the
antithesis of what making art is all about? If you’re not questioning something, are you really making art? If Artillery is not questioning the art world, are we doing our job?

These questions and issues plague me as Editor. What’s important in the art world? Are we properly representing the issues and challenges of art? It’s such a huge world. If we tout some art and it’s not hip enough, are we making a mistake? Should we cover this artist just because they are in a museum show? Who did we leave out? Why did we choose to profile this person and not that one? Some of these questions actually keep me awake at night. A long lost aunt actually called asking why I couldn’t feature her daughter who won a college art contest 25 years ago; the abstract painting on her wall still gets comments from house guests. It can be a tough job, trying to please everyone.

In the end, you just have to please yourself and have confidence that you are doing the right thing. This magazine is like an addiction for me. I’m still having fun, so why not keep doing it? It’s when I stop having fun, that I may stop. But for now, I’m still getting high.

Dear Readers  

 
This is our summer issue, an issue that has become the one I’m not sure matters. It’s summer! Who cares about work? Who cares about art? Whatever it is you’re doing, you just want to get it over with, and get the hell out.

It’s ingrained in us. The warmest season of the year has come to hot town, summer in the city… School’s out for summer! That doesn’t mean nothin’ matters in the summer. Everyone recalls their first summer fling, the pool parties, outdoor concerts, beach blanket bingos and camping by the lake. But work? Forget it!

That summertime attitude doesn’t escape the art world either. Most galleries have group shows or dust off what’s been hidden in the closet and close early in August. On the other hand, museums will often pull out the stops and present their summer blockbuster shows, ya know, for the tourists seeking to beat the heat.

For this issue we start in New York, that broiling griddle where museums provide the best escape. Gotham contributor Stephen Maine covers Nicole Eisenman’s survey at the New Museum, and writer John Haber recommends The Met’s rooftop garden for an early evening cocktail, Hitchcockian-style, starring Cornelia Parker’s PsychoBarn installation.

The San Francisco art action is heating up too. SF contributor Barbara Morris reports on the latest Minnesota Street Project, DoReMi. She explains why several top galleries moved to a new arts district. Artillery Shoptalk reporter Scarlet Cheng takes in the opening of the long awaited new wing of SFMOMA, and there’s a sidebar listing a few new galleries in the city of lights (Gagosian anyone?).

That Larry—he has 17 galleries now! A tony San Francisco location is his latest target. How does he do it? And to what purpose? Why does he need that many galleries? I find it a bit appalling that the art world has become a place where money calls all the shots.

In some ways Doug Chrismas of Ace Gallery, here in Los Angeles, could have easily become, at the very least, the West-Coast Gagosian. But maybe he’s just not as crafty as Larry. The rumors and speculations regarding Ace Gallery are put to rest in this issue when Charles Rappleye spells out the documented truth with authenticity and accuracy, and I’m afraid it’s not a pretty picture.

Now I’m no expert on how to handle money, especially since I’ve never really had the opportunity to do so, but it seems that when a lot of money starts accumulating, there needs to be different ways to spread it around and make more of it. Then it becomes necessary to try to become less transparent with all your money. You might even tell people you’re broke. So you try hiding it, you become stingy, and you don’t pay people. You even start believing that you’re broke. Just writing about it makes me paranoid! Imagine actually being in that situation. I’m sort of glad I’m not. I wish Doug Chrismas no harm, but I think he needs to act like an adult and quit trying to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. He’s in so deep now that a little of that wool might have slipped over his own eyes. I suppose you could blame it on money.

But who cares! It’s summer. Let’s get the hell outta here.

Dear Readers    

You’ve heard the one about how sculpture is something you bump into when backing up to look at a painting. An old boyfriend who was a sculptor told me that joke.

He also told me the story about how Louise Bourgeois was at a high power dinner with an all-male sculptor guest list, being wined and dined as prospective artists for a commission. When the job was described as for someone who really had balls, apparently Ms. Bourgeois stood up from the dinner table and shouted, “I got balls!” That story is always fun to tell and one hopes it’s true. The point being that sculpture was once a man’s game and arguably a secondary modern art form compared to painting.

A few years back we did an issue about painting. This time around, we decided to address sculpture. It turns out that sculpture is going strong. As somebody who has been known to dabble with a paint brush on occasion, I’m aware that there are two types of artists: those who work on a flat surface, and those who create 3D art. I was lousy at ceramics and sculpture but thrived with pen or paintbrush in hand. Is it the way we are wired? I think so, although some artists succeed at doing both. Take our cover artist, Aaron Curry. His sculpture is as manly as Richard Serra’s, and his paintings are just as accomplished—although the 2D works do take on a spherical quality with their shaped canvases and tubular, outer-space content (looking suspiciously sculptural).

Perhaps oddly, female sculptors outnumber males in this issue, but only by accident. Could it be because the ancient tools of the sculptor—hammer and chisel, welding torch, lost wax casting—are no longer necessary when sculpting (thereby not requiring the fair amount of brawn it used to require to perform such tasks)? Materials used in creating 3-dimensional objects these days include cardboard, yarn, fabric and found objects. Some are created on computers, far from the original meaning of sculpting: to carve.

Another medium gaining popularity is clay, also known as ceramics, and it can be very hands-on. Regular contributor Scarlet Cheng just scores the surface on clay sculpture today. She focuses on Matt Wedel, Tanya Batura, and Phyllis Green, who has been working with the mud substance for decades now. Teapots, ashtrays and bongs have been cast aside for busts, flower trees and larger-than-life objects. Kilns are heating up.

But can it be classified as sculpture? Art critic/professor Frances Colpitt questions this in her article on the death of sculpture. She is inspired to continue the conversation with the late Donald Judd from his famous 1965 essay, “Specific Objects,”  on the topic.

When you get right down to it, it’s all just art. And I have bumped into it when I was backing up to look at a painting.

Dear Readers,

Film and art just go together. If you’re into art, you’re most likely a film buff (and film snob), and if you’re into film, well… maybe, actually, it doesn’t go the other way around. So let’s stick to the first theory. This is a contemporary art magazine after all.

We’ve had a film issue before, but this one is a bit different. We’re covering all types of moving pictures, including television and video art. Television is the newest addition to our always eclectic lineup. If you haven’t noticed, there’s a lot of great TV these days, and most of it is not on the Network as we formerly knew it. The Internet is quickly outdating television; but as long as it’s still around, one of the most interesting and creative series today is Louie, by comedian Louis CK, on the FX network. Besides being howlingly hilarious and jaw-dropping DID I JUST SEE WHAT I JUST SAW?—it’s sobering, smart, dark and creative—and I mean creative in an artistic sense. His material feels uniquely personal and he is constantly innovative in the way he tells stories. When I watch Louie, I’m always amazed, and think to myself, this guy is truly an artist. He sees and thinks like an artist.

So when contributor Elwyn Palmerton pitched Louie as a topic to write about, I was delighted. In my opinion Louis CK is an artist. Which brings me back to film and art. When I was an undergrad, that’s when I got introduced to underground films—that’s what they used to call any “arty” type film back then. Every Friday night was underground film night at the University of Arkansas. I saw all the Warhol films, and that’s when I saw A Clockwork Orange, Rollerball and Inserts.

My next academic stop was Tulsa University, and there I was exposed to a plethora of underground films. Every spring they had the “Subversive Film Festival.” The main guy that ran the festival was pumped up on amphetamines for the entire 36-hour film run. They would start Friday night, maybe with a campy porn, like Deep Throat. (That’s the first time I saw a hairy vagina fill an entire movie screen: some of the audience members actually screamed! I distinctly recall the screams coming from the females, which I thought kind of weird as, well, that’s sort of like looking in the mirror isn’t it?). Then all the South American films would pile up, then perhaps the most rare of John Waters’ films like Eat Your Makeup or Multiple Maniacs.

Watching those movies—seeing those directors and actors push boundaries and follow their vision—felt like it was part of the process of becoming an artist. That’s what artists do when they’re not making art; they’re watching arty films or reading literature—or reading about art! So, my Dear Readers, we thought you’d enjoy this issue of arty film, TV and video. Louie just fits into the underground film category in my mind, even though it’s on television. But, hell, all the stuff that’s mainstream now was subversive in my day. That’s when men were men and vaginas had hair! Happy New Year!

Dear Readers,

  
Last month, Artillery held a panel discussion on whether artists need art school. On my way to the panel, I received a phone call from a friend telling me he wouldn’t be able to make it. This friend is known for his cynicism; he added wryly that if he were able to attend, he would have asked if the world needed artists.

Ha, ha, ha. We had a good laugh. My immediate answer was, “Yes, or else I wouldn’t have a magazine.” Ha, ha, ha.

But then I started thinking, because I’m a little cynical myself:  Does the world need artists? The short answer is yes. History will tell you that. Humans have felt the need to express themselves creatively from the beginning of time, so I’m not going to even go there.

The more germane question is: Does the world need so many artists? I guess one could ask that about lawyers, literature majors and food critics. I feel my friend wouldn’t have brought it up if it weren’t for the sheer pervasiveness of artists and art functions: art on restaurant walls, art in hospitals, art on sidewalks, even on billboards. There’s no escaping it!

Of course, this is from the perspective of an Angeleno. The proliferation of something always puts the quality of the product at risk. And since there is so much art, well there just has to be a lot of crap. Quality control simply cannot keep up with volume.

So, sometimes we feel it’s necessary to draw attention to some of the cream of the crop, specifically in Los Angeles, since we are an LA magazine. We start with Sandow Birk, an artist I’ve been wanting to feature for quite some time. I’ve followed his career since his satirical depictions of the fictitious California wars back in 2000. With his realistic style of painting, he has applied his knowledge, curiosity and powers of observation to his latest series on the Qu’ran. All 243 pages in fact, translated and illustrated. Liz Goldner interviews him right before his show at the Orange County Museum of Art, where the entire body of work will be debuted.

But there’s more. Contributor Anne Martens talks with author and USC Vice Dean of Critical Studies Amelia Jones about her books and activism. Josh Herman sits down with Ben Caldwell and talks about the gentrification of Leimert Park. We also tap into two young artists that are making work with their ancestry in mind, LA gallerist Anat Ebgi’s one-year program featuring only women artists—trying to even the playing field—and veteran LA artist Lisa Adams, who kills it with her newest painting series, is our Guest Lecture.

Not just creators; we also talk with the tastemakers, those who decide what’s hot and what’s not. Who can resist a delicious Q & A with controversial art mogul Stefan Simchowitz by our Private Eye columnist Robyn Perry. And speaking of art collecting, we have the latest on The Broad museum with a special interview with Chief Curator Joanne Heyler by staff writer Ezrha Jean Black; it’s on our back page.

Lastly, two writers weigh in on Matthew Barney, who paid a visit to Los Angeles with his MOCA show, the only U.S. venue. The six-hour epic movie was shown during some of the hottest months in the City of Angels. It was a cool way to beat the heat, because baby, it’s hot in LA.

Dear Readers    

When I moved to Los Angeles to attend grad school for my MFA at the University of Southern California, it was apparent I was at a crossroads in my life. Making the decision to leave the place where I grew up, to leave behind all my family and friends, leave behind the only world I knew—was surprisingly easy!

I was in my late 20s and it was time to take the plunge, as a mentor advised—meaning quitting one’s straight job and devoting all one’s time to being an artist. So off to California I went.

But I was green, oh so green. I shudder to reveal just how naïve I was about the big ol’ art world. I’ve never been insecure about my art, but I was beginning to feel less confident about what the art world exactly was and what I’d gotten myself into. Where I came from, there was one commercial art gallery, one art museum that had one wing for contemporary art, and one Western Cowboy art museum—world-renowned! I was not familiar with the contemporary art magazines that might have brought me a little up to speed.

My first semester at USC, one professor (and maybe all the faculty!) immediately saw right through me. He sat me down, threw a bunch of art magazines at me and told me to go through them and write down all the artists I liked. I looked only at the ads and told him I liked Mary Boone’s work and Leo Castelli wasn’t too bad either. What was a professor supposed to make of a student who couldn’t tell the difference between an artist and an art dealer—world-famous at that?

Then in my first studio crit the faculty asked me whose work influenced me the most—“besides Larry Clark and Charles Bukowski,” they snorted with derision. I replied “John Waters.” Then they barked, “No! What visual artist?” I froze. I looked around the walls of my studio and all I could see were these swirling pastel colors. Finally, with evident uncertainty, I said, “Uh, the Impressionists?”

That was it. The faculty was not amused. They immediately left, shaking their heads. I was put on probation.
But I took my art-making seriously. And I wanted to make good art. I think they saw that. I did graduate after all.

USC art professor Jud Fine whom I interview in this issue—one of the snorters, incidentally—says you don’t have to have talent to be an artist; you just have to have the desire. I like the last part of that statement, and I’m still getting used to the first part.

But do you have to go to school to be an artist? That’s one question that this September issue addresses. We can agree that it isn’t entirely necessary. And with the rising costs of higher education and a degree with dubious payoffs, artist-wannabe students are re-evaluating the importance of getting that required MFA.

Our Back to School issue looks at some of the top art schools in Southern California, and writer Christopher Michno asks if there is a ranking system we can rely on—and if anyone really cares. Ezrha Jean Black studies the teaching techniques of Corita Kent, revealing how rules are made to be broken. And recent MFA grads describe their crits and experiences in art school, while Zak Smith recounts the chilling, terror of the Yale Pit Crit!

I still would never take back my grad school experience—it was life-changing, without a doubt. But thankfully I didn’t have a hefty school-loan debt, one equal to buying a house nowadays. The fact USC did have the MFA full-scholarship program allowed me to change my life. Going to college shouldn’t have to be a luxury, afforded only by the rich and privileged. Just think, I would still be in Oklahoma, surrounded by pastel cowboys.

Dear Readers    

We’re going “outside the cube” for our summer issue. This is our second look at alternative spaces—the first time we zeroed in on domestic art spaces—but this time we’re focusing on noncommercial art venues outside the white cube of the commercial fine art gallery as we know it today.

What interests us is the development of art institutions that coexist right alongside commercial galleries. Some of these nonprofit spaces, as profiled by Charles Rappleye, (occasional contributor and co-founder of Artillery) are quite a different animal. Charles finds that these independent nonprofits—as opposed to nonprofits that receive government subsidies—rely on the generosity of donors and collectors purchasing artworks from lavish auctions, events and galas to float their operations.

I’ve always been curious about these high-flying nonprofits. It appears from the outside that they don’t struggle as much as many galleries, or even museums for that matter. They don’t even feel particularly alternative; if anything, they aspire to join the elite and mingle with the rich and famous. There’s no denying that well-heeled people need to spend their money on something—why not art? These independent nonprofits highlight a new territory in the art world: the precinct of extreme wealth or the .01%, as one prominent art dealer boasted to me.

But there’s another end to this spectrum, the artist-run spaces that exist solely for the purpose of showing overlooked art they support and celebrate. There’s barely any commerce involved. These are the unsung heroes and heroines whose passion is what drives them. One such person is Skira Martinez, who runs CIELO, a space in South LA which serves its community as well as showing art that otherwise might not get seen because of its controversial subject matter. Contributor and performance artist Nancy Popp interviews Martinez, who came to LA the long way—via Toronto, Canada. Christopher Michno stops by a Museum of Art that’s not really a museum, and drops in on Laurel Doody, a gallery with a funny name in an apartment. John O’Brien revisits the defunct Bliss house-gallery, which had a stellar reputation back in the ’90s, showing now-established artists such as Jennifer Steinkamp and Steve Roden. John includes RAID Projects for its international reputation, stamina and deep commitment.

So, are alternative galleries just stepping-stones for the big guns? Do artists show in these spaces only by default, until they can become real artists with real art dealers? It all depends. Some of these spaces are run by artists who have clout in the art world and just want to do something different. The impresarios behind these alternative spaces—they want to be a part of the art world, but they’re not solely driven by commerce. They want something different, something new. They think outside the cube.

Dear Readers

In this issue we take a look “Inside Art”—what’s inside the art world, other than art. This is a theme that has interested us for some time now, but it really hit home after I interviewed abstract painter James Hayward for our last issue on painting. One of the things he said (that didn’t make it into the interview) was that today the real art stars are the art dealers.

While that may not be a news flash—think Leo Castelli or Jeffrey Deitch—I can see how the artist can end up being a cog in the wheel of the complex machinery known as The Art World. But at the same time, an artist can also be the one calling the shots:  Takashi Murakami can pick any dealer he wants, while Damien Hirst chose to bypass the gallery and go straight to the auction house. Even so, the artist needs a facilitator to make a sale, whether it’s the auction house, dealer, art advisor or agent.

The art world has “progressed” into a microcosm of corporate America, and like most business empires, a hierarchy exists. Who rules The Art World, who is the star? Hayward suggests it’s the dealer, but we find it’s not always the dealer who is the one with the most cake. In fact, there seems to be more symbiotic relationships—albeit with a few parasites thrown in. And it’s a bit like the Wild West with openings and closings, art car parades and humongous installations at music festivals. Everyone wants to get in on the booming art scene, monetarily or just to be hip. For this issue on art-world insiders, we present a cross section: artist, dealer, advisor, curator, auction house executive, museum director.

Not so very long ago, the art world began to emulate corporations, with its need to grow—to hire CEOs, directors, assistants, and assistants who need assistants. Then came the peripheral art-related businesses to serve that expanse. The more adroit of these enterprisers can control the trend temperature. Most people need to be told what is hot and what they should buy. The art world is no exception. Art is a viable commodity, as lucrative as stocks and property, if not more so. And more and more people are figuring that out. We tapped into a few of those art venturers, along with established art players as well.

We’re looking “Inside Art,” which means contributor Christopher Michno goes right to the top and interviews LACMA Director Michael Govan, even with the elephant (Zumthor) in his office. Staff writer Ezrha Jean Black discusses the art market with Sotheby’s West Coast Chairman Andrea Fiuczynski. Tucker Neel gets to the bottom of cool with Western Project’s veteran art dealer Cliff Benjamin, and Victoria Looseleaf sits down with Outsider Art maven Paige Wery. But we don’t forget the artists! Artist Glenn Kaino is able to be still for a moment as he shares his latest projects and this issue’s Guest Lecturer Marnie Weber debuts her first feature film stills with us: one stunning image ended up on the cover.

We haven’t taken a break from art, we’re just looking inside art… and there’s so much to see. In order to understand the art world, you have to see how it actually functions. And by the way, Artillery thinks everybody is a star.

Dear Readers    

Our paint-themed issue just makes me want to paint. I figure that’s a good thing. As a former serious painter, I get wistful for the days when I was alone in the studio for hours with pigment, medium and turpentine—especially when I see a good painting that is really about the application of paint. Our writers in this issue explore the many ways in which paint is used: on canvas, on wood; poured, splattered, dribbled, smeared, cut, hacked and tied up in knots. The wonders of paint abound within these pages of Artillery.
It is almost laughable to think that back in 1839 the French painter Paul Delaroche was the first to declare: “Painting is dead.” After that, it became a catch phrase to emphasize whatever the current trend: Painting is dead; Painting is back. Reading this issue, I think you’ll agree that it is back. But was it ever really gone?

Of course not. Why would anyone want to live without paintings? What would we hang on our walls or in the museums? Isn’t that what walls are made for? Upon some investigating, it appears to me that when Delaroche suggested “Painting is dead,” he was most likely referring to the invention of the Daguerreotype, the first successful photographic process. Delaroche’s paintings were mostly historical documentation, which was the reason for much of the painting at that time. Perhaps a more accurate statement should have been, “Narrative painting is dead.”

That more precise proposition is how this whole painting theme got started—New York contributor Seph Rodney wanted to write about narrative painting. He chose three artists to discuss, although there are a plethora of narrative painters. Then I opened the painting theme up to our writers, and everyone wanted to write about their favorite painter. But that’s not what this issue ended up being about, and besides, we would have had to leave out too many fabulous painters. We decided to concentrate on what painting means today.

Abstraction is discussed by David DiMichele, on a deep personal level. David has been following this subject matter for a long time and maintains that Jackson Pollock is still the litmus test for a truly good abstract painting. Abstract painter James Hayward, whom I interview, claims the way to tell a good abstract is to place it next to the early black paintings of Frank Stella. But is that what painters strive to do? Be as good as Pollock, as good as Titian, or van Eyck? Those are gargantuan shoes to fill. Or are painters supposed to find new forms of expression? Surely, it was groundbreaking when Pollock spread the canvas on the floor. But what can a painter do today to push boundaries? Not use a brush? Anne Martens explores sculptural painting—paintings that don’t hang on a wall. Paint is the medium, but it is used to make multidimensional works. Is it sculpture then? Anne considers this carefully.

What this issue comes down to is that painting is alive and kicking. I can’t imagine living in a world without painting, even if I don’t paint right now (I fully intend to dig into it again). Whether it’s abstract, minimalist, narrative or hard edge—or even sculpture—painting will never die. The two centuries that it has survived since Delaroche surely attest to that.