Dear Reader,

What’s a world without art? Ask me, I think I know.

My husband died last September. Since then I’ve balked at art. I despised art. I hated anything that took any time away from those precious hours and days I could have been with him. All the Saturday nights spent at openings, when I could have been with my husband. All the hours spent editing this magazine, when I could have whiled away the hours with my husband.

Larry Gagosian could have knocked on my door with the original Ed Ruscha palindrome painting, “TULSA,” and I would have said, “I don’t care, please go away.”

My new world without art persisted even beyond art, as I couldn’t listen to the music I loved. Anything enjoyable soon became unbearable as it reminded me of him. Reading fiction was a series of repeated sentences until I threw the book down. Forget going to a movie. I resorted to listening to bad music on the radio, just to not have total silence in the house. I was indeed living in a world void of art.

Then one day I drove past an art gallery. I decided to stop in on a show I’d been hearing about. I was the only one in the large cavernous gallery. Although the work was not particularly to my liking, I was struck by it. It was formidable, and the sheer volume was impressive. I’m sure there were assistants involved in making the art, but I didn’t really dwell on that. Then I started sobbing as I pondered each piece. Not that the work moved me so, but the quietness of it, the meaning of it, just being alone with it and looking at it, letting it seep into my senses. I wondered what inspired the artist to make such objects. What moved the artist to spend all that time on making those paintings. Was it love?

I think it must be. How could it be anything else? Why would anyone put so much time into singing a song, writing a book or painting a canvas? I wandered up to the second floor with my sunglasses on, hiding my tears. (What if the gallerinas thought I was choking up over the art!) The art up there hit me the same. Ho hum, but who is this person who put so much effort into it? It certainly must have meant a lot to them.

When I left the gallery I had decided that I enjoyed that experience, even though it was painful in a way. Seeing the art made me think in a different way. It’s like I was really seeing again for the first time, emerging from darkness. It made me think that I might be able to bring art back into my world, that it might actually provide comfort, take me to a safe place.
It’s been a struggle getting through these last two issues, and I still haven’t been out to see many shows. But I am looking forward to art healing me and bringing me a fondness for life that I have lost.

I’ve had the help of all my co-workers, colleagues and good friends, to get this issue together. We had the theme scheduled some time back, and we wanted to focus on the “inside” of art, behind the scene. Who are the art dealers (Jeffrey Deitch), the museum directors (Michael Govan), the nonprofit directors (Hamza Walker)? These people don’t make art, but they must have the same kind of love for art, at least we hope so.

Can art heal, bring about change? We’ve had that discussion in these pages of Artillery for over 12 years now. I think I can say yes, it can.