Weird how art communicates deep or secret things about its maker. The first words I said to Mark Lombardi when I met him on November 19, 1998, the day before his New York debut opened, were "You're not crazy or going to kill yourself, are you? Should I be nervous?" He gripped his Styrofoam coffee cup, took a rapid drag off his cigarette, grinned, gave me a funny sidelong glance, and chuckled, "No." Sixteen months later, on March 22, 2000, Lombardi hanged himself in his Williamsburg loft. Friends said he had been "stressed out." Hinting at a darker side, some reported that he had been "warned" not to exhibit work tracing the political and financial doings of... More >>>