Dear Reader,

The sky outside my office window is thick and hazy; the hot air dry and static. Los Angeles temperatures are hitting record highs and there’s no rain forecast for the foreseeable future. There are forest fires all over California, nearly apocalyptic in size and destruction. Our president’s behavior borders on insanity but nothing stops him. Our country and the world are going to hell, and we all feel helpless. With all this happening, it’s damn near impossible to even think about art. How can art possibly matter?

Yet here in our September issue we explore the theme of Utopia that was enthusiastically suggested by our editorial team. It felt like our bleak present might be just the right time.

But what exactly is Utopia? How can we define something that doesn’t exist? It’s sort of like Heaven, I guess—a dreamt-up fantasy. Nonetheless, it’s something that we all tend to want to experience: Imagine all the people living life in peace… you may say I’m a dreamer—in the words of a needlessly dead rock star. That’s a harsh reality. John Lennon died at the hands of a stranger with a handgun. Gun control anyone? I was skeptical of an issue dedicated to the idea of Utopia, as I am not a dreamer. If there is a hell, I believe it’s right here, right now.

Then I was confronted with all these artists that are making art with devotion and determination. Their intention is to make a statement and do something about our troubled times. Jayna Zweiman, the creator of the famed Pussy Hat, is interviewed by contributor Anne Martens. By definition, she is not an artist; she works as an architect. But she wanted to do something for the Women’s March that she wouldn’t be able to attend, thus the pink crocheted hats. Zweiman is just one example of the artists profiled in our Utopia issue who use their craft to send out a message of love and hope. Christopher Richmond creates fantastical worlds in his films, more like sci-fi, in which we can escape this world and find a new one, but they are often worlds filled with nightmares and confusion. Then there’s Akio Hizume, who works with natural objects such as bamboo, to exemplify the important relationship between humans and nature.

All the artists in this issue produce work that directly addresses what’s happening in the world today. I used to think that art could never make a difference, but the more I see such art the more I believe that fresh ideas can open us up to transformation. Persistence alone can often bring change.

Yes, Utopia is a fiction, like Adam and Eve. When I first learned that Adam and Eve was just a fairy tale, I was mortified. It was the parish priest who taught catechism class to our age group who broke the news. I was like, well, how come it’s in the Bible then, and why were we told that in the first place? I remember being a little pissed off—I felt like I had been lied to.

There was no Adam and Eve; there is no Santa Claus, and no Easter Bunny. It’s all very sad. We may never get to Utopia, but it’s a place to dream about, and what are we without our dreams?

I guess I’ll just close my window blinds.