I started my time at Bob Cut Mag as an intern, fresh out of college. A Bay Area native who, as it turned out, did not know much about the Bay Area—at least anything worth writing. I learned quickly, you helped me. Before long I could round up a good brunch spot (or twenty) and direct you to the best bookstores, pass on my bar crawl experience, and guide you through the season’s latest art exhibitions—from SFMOMA to the Legion, and all those wonderful scrappy galleries in between.
I learned about the city writing for Bob Cut Mag. I learned about what our readers care about. Hell, I learned what I care about. I was indulged with the kindest hospitality, rooms I had little reason to be in, eating and drinking at tables filled with San Franciscans and world citizens alike, all of whom taught me irrevocable life lessons. Lessons about art, about style, about city, society, culture, about life. The greatest subject of all: life.
My varying positions serving this platform humbled and amazed me, allowing me to experience the snappy, important life of a journalist when in fact I was just a local who cared about my fellow locals enough to scream their stories from the rooftops, from our Facebook page, Instagram page, and biyearly print edition, in equal measure.
This editor’s letter is for you. The friendships forged, the writers that let me bring their stories to this table. The photographers that were never surprised or offended when I begged to feature their content in our volumes. I’m honored to share in the great story of San Francisco, and I’m tremendously thankful to have spent my early twenties as apart of this team. Here’s to you. Here’s to them. Here’s to what’s coming next.
My three favorite experiences, below:
// Photography by Vitaly Taranov
