Barbara liked to tell people she found me in a basement in Brooklyn. Technically, it was a warehouse, but I wasn’t in a position to argue with her. Our first meetings were in 2013, when I was the managing editor of the Brooklyn Rail and she was co-editing the special Ad Reinhardt centennial edition of the publication, which we produced on-site in the middle of the Come Together: Surviving Sandy exhibition at Industry City.

I was appropriately deferential, a bit in awe, and mostly focused on not saying anything so uninformed as to embarrass myself. Apparently I was successful because Barbara took a liking to me, in the same way she did with so many other artists and writers. Over the years I became one of Barbara’s people, which was sometimes overwhelming but always exhilarating and enlightening.