Dear Reader,

It’s been a year now since our world started shrinking; lockdowns and quarantining made our worlds smaller. It was a foregone conclusion that the magazine would also start shrinking. One irony though, is that we gained two editorial pages. But this gain was a loss because we would no longer be running our popular society column, Roll Call, which consisted of snapshots of gallerygoers at art openings.

The photo collage was unique for any art magazine. Artillery featured the two-page color spread in the very first issue, and it was in every subsequent issue—that’s 15 years of LA art openings. People loved looking at the pictures, spotting “art stars,” friends, and maybe checking to see if they were featured themselves. It was usually the first page Artillery fans turned to when they picked up a copy. Who could resist?

The cheeky column featured local gallery openings along with museum galas, international art fairs and fancy benefits. We would accept pictures from local photogs, but mainly it was just me and my photographer, Lynda. We went to all the events, rarely missing a weekend. Sometimes it felt like drudgery. Who wants to work on Saturday night? Even though most gallery openings ended before 8, there were the after-parties, the after-after parties, the dinners and the bars that you might meet up at later.

While I did dread going to the openings more than I care to publicly admit, there were some openings that were great fun. The most entertaining were the well-attended events, which would mainly be museum openings or fancy benefits—there was definitely an improvement in the food and bev department. You could also choose to enjoy the anonymity and easily get “lost” in the crowd. Once we got there, Lynda and I would immediately make a beeline to the bar.

The main attraction at the tony openings was to hopefully get all the VIP’s mugs. Flitting about, drink in one hand, a cheese breadstick in the other, getting tipsier as the night air turned cool and the music got louder—the Dutch courage would make it easier to ask the celebs for a picture. By then, everyone else was feeling good, and might even be hamming it up in front of the camera. Half the fun was being outside, drinking and smoking and laughing—who cared about the art? Sometimes I didn’t even see the show! (I confess.)

It was fun mingling with a normally stuffy crowd, who would be getting a bit loose as the evening wore on. Stopping to share a puff with Henry Taylor or James Hayward wouldn’t be out of the norm. One time I dropped my full wine glass and it shattered to pieces right in front of Hammer Director Annie Philbin. She swiftly grabbed someone to clean up the mess and just brushed it off before going on her merry way.

“Beyond the Gallery” is our theme in this issue, where we look at new ways the art world may change. Things can never stay the same, which can be a harsh reality to accept. We know there can’t be art celebrations anymore, at least not in the near future. Should this epoch be something we learn from? I think and hope so, but it’s always fun to look back.