Don Argott’s new film The Art of the Steal is closer to a conspiracy flick than institutional documentary. On the face of it, the film tells the tumultuous history of The Barnes Foundation, a maze of political and art world chicanery with twists and betrayals to rival a season of “Lost” – only at the end of the day, it all makes sense. The motive: money, over $25 billion to be exact, the estimated value of the late Albert Barnes’ unrivaled collection of Impressionist, Post-Impressionist and Early Modern masters. The crime: betraying the old man’s legal trust by hijacking the entire collection from its rightful home at an eccentric educational institution in Lower Merion County to a shiny new tourist hot-spot in downtown Philadelphia. But the most surprising element of the mystery is the culprit: the big business of big philanthropy.

Read the Tim Johnston Interview

It’s old Jimmy Day who finds it, digging away on a tract of greasy earth that two days ago was an auto salvage lot. (Where
those dripping wrecks ended up we don’t ask: our focus has been on leveling the land so that pavement can get in there and lid the whole toxic stretch with two feet of concrete, pronto.) I was about twenty yards away on my skidloader, pushing around a green goulash of mud and batteries and hubcaps, looking right at Jimmy when he did something you almost never see Jimmy do: he stopped digging. …

Tim Johnston is going places—figuratively and literally, or should I say literary? Back in town to promote his award-winning collection of short stories, “Irish Girl,” the author has been riding on a wave of good news that is putting him on the up and up around the country. But it’s not just by luck that Johnston should meet such success—talent and a little determination are the key ingredients here. I first met the amiable author back in December when I covered one of his readings at Book Soup in Hollywood. Admittedly, I wasn’t familiar with Johnston’s work until about a week prior to the reading when I realized I would be covering it, and hence did my best to educate myself on his fiction. Needless to say, I was blown away by my findings.

Often mistakenly dubbed as the “Mexican Halloween,” Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, holds a special significance to the descendants of the Meso-Americans. Part of a ritual that has been practiced for over 3,000 years, Dia de los Muertos honors death as a continuation of life. Celebrants wear skull masks, called calacas, or face paint to honor deceased relatives and build elaborate altars to fill with offerings for the dead. For all its mysticism, at its core, the celebration is about family and community.

When I found out that the 15th Annual Los Angeles Art Show is taking place at the LA Convention Center this year, I immediately flashed back to the last time I was there, about 5 years ago, getting sworn in as an American citizen. Instead of being surrounded by fellow foreigners awkwardly waving our tiny American flags as a video George Bush, wheat fields, and smiling children played on a large screen, this time I was surrounded by rich old people, hipsters, and hungry reporters.