I am not kidding

For about 25 years, I've subscribed to a well-known magazine for artists and wannabes. Over the years, its look and editorial focus changed periodically, usually for the better. I was always excited when an issue arrived in the mailbox, and I'd spread the pleasure of reading it over a week or more, finding something to learn from almost every article.

All this changed in 2010, when a new editor took the helm and what I could only assume was a hidden cabal proclaimed that the publication intended to be "the voice of the New American Realism" -- versus a rag for mere hobbyists. Gradually, the style of the new regime emerged in critiques like this one, of the October 2012 cover painting pictured above:

"Consider Harvest, which depicts a polar bear in a poppy field, with a
downed helicopter in the background. The image offers a potent
critique of global warming, drug trafficking, and the failure of
international security forces to defeat organized criminal interests.
The blooming poppy field, veiled in toxic yellow air, provides the
ideal setting for the polar bear, whose bee-stung paws indicate that
the beast has had his hand in the honey jar -- implying that his
presence in this contested turf is not entirely benign."

I am not kidding.

Obviously a clique was running the show, and their kind of stuff was not at all my kind of stuff. (For the record, I'm no fan of the demented eyes of Bo Bartlett's figures, the pouty provocative adolescents of Nelson Shanks, or the oddities of non-realist non-American Odd Nerdstrom. Don't expect me to link to their websites).

Along with the bombast were subtle suggestions that the magazine's resources were increasingly limited: most articles were written by the two senior editors, the advertising "supplements" sometimes usurped a third of an issue, and there were more historical articles (requiring only a few hours at the library?) than the usual insightful interviews with working contemporary artists.

Before long, I almost dreaded the arrival of each new issue. Oh, man, what will they inflict on me this month? Why not just pull the plug on my subscription, see if I can get my money back, and by golly, I'll subscribe to the competition's art mag!

....and so it came to pass, courtesy of the gods of the marketplace. Just a few weeks ago, I found in the mailbox the very magazine I had in mind as Plan B, with a message advising that my original subscription had been transferred to this new outfit. A little internet research revealed that the parent company of my old faithful magazine had been bought out, and the magazine had "ceased publication."

I was a little miffed that I'd had to dig for this explanation. Couldn't they have informed me by postcard? But then I learned that after 75 years as a print publication, they'd announced their imminent demise with a one-liner on their Facebook page.

I am not kidding.