Sixteen-year-olds can build empires without leaving the house.
They do it while they’re grounded. They already have better stock
portfolios, and they don’t need a lecture on the future. The smart
ones probably have book deals. More than anything, they aren’t
afraid to celebrate their talents. So modesty better watch it—that
fragile virtue with the weak knees is a last resort for a generation
freebasing on social media.
This new brand of self-determination is revved up, ferocious, thrilling and iPad compatible. Some artists are photosensitive to the
blaze of immediate attention. That camera-shy humility is sincere
and honorable; We used to be a magazine with that under-the-radar reflex. But design is no longer anonymous, and fame isn’t the
same as authorship. So this is how we showcase the best design:
with character and intelligence. Other wise we’re just ghostwriting
with a flashlight, and no one cares.
We put our names on this version of the sublime. It’s a magazine
in print with only six issues. So there is no indecision, no seeking
refuge in the salvation of “delete.” In this edition, we went for
Taylor Borsari and her textured visual verse in Las Vegas; and we
watched Susanne Csongor brilliantly make eyes at the New York
skyline; and saw Lynne Scalo unveil an original interpretation for
a Westport family home. For the seasonal rush, we went outside,
away from the decorative and into the indelible at the estate of
the Masi winery in Valpolicella, Italy.
Mediocrity is not revolutionary no matter how many hits it gets
online. We edit it out of interiors. Don’t expect a balloon drop.
EDITOR IN CHIEF