I’m still not really over the death of Amy Winehouse, or James Gandolfini, Philip Seymour Hoffman, or Kurt Cobain, for that matter. People we don’t know die all the time, but when someone we don’t know who created art that touched us in some profound way dies, we mourn them almost as if they were family. It’s like we lost a part of ourselves, and very, very important part. When an artist dies who touched us, we mourn them fiercely… Read more »