Over the two years our little review has been in existence, we’ve been striving to define what it is that such publications do. That is to say, the field is changing so quickly; seeds sprout and take root, blossom for some small while in the sun, wither, die and are replaced. The middle ground is a very competitive arena.

The field is arranged thus: the old growth plots dominate. Magazines like the New Yorker and the Atlantic (whose annual fiction issue is as eagerly anticipated as Christmas), among the other major metropolitan-area publications, are the titans. Their funding is in order, they will never lack for quality, their roots are so deep and so massive that is only by miracles that other new organisms are able to survive. But this is not competition, merely the way of the world. And it is no bad thing either.

Then there are the smaller gardens, the extraordinarily local publications. Almost every town has one, even if it is nothing more than the arts section of the community newsletter. These too tend to have a large degree of staying power. Of survival aptitude. These zines, pamphlets, whatever you want to call them, are the lifeblood of the smaller artistic communities. Many are the contented country poets who can supplement an income by a morsel of local color.

But it is the small cities, the in-betweeners, whose arts scene seem to be most vibrant (are places like Greenwich Village or lower San Francisco not a cliché for stifled sets?), whose reviews tend to lack the flair or verve or the je ne sais quoi to survive, to support and provide a platform for their constituents- the communities of artists who are arguably the ones making the true advances. Think of a place like Baltimore, our own province. How many reviews, art zines, newsletters, etc. do we have in our city? There are dozens of scattered and disparate communities- each represented by an affiliated publication- all in competition, big fish in a large pond (for it is certainly not the ocean), striving beautifully for the chance to make a lasting imprint, futilely. This is because, albeit with exceptions, they lack a vision.

No one has yet defined what it means to be a functioning act off Broadway, so to speak. These reviews have been either too ambitious, or too hyper-focused. Baltimore can never be New York, nor can it ever be Peoria either. But if a review were to look outwards while remembering where it came from, using its own environment as an inspiration for growth, adaptation and survival, it would be able to achieve its potential. And that is what we’re seeking to do here at Hidden City.

For starters, we know where we are, who we represent. The majority of our submissions are solicited, in person (our chief-of-chiefs Matt Gentry is a well-known harasser of local writers), at local poetry readings, writing circles, and art shows. These are our roots. Baltimore is the soil- nutrient rich, from which we draw our strength. But that does not mean that we exclude other, foreign, seeds. We were more than delighted, in our first year, to announce our first international issue, made up of a number of wonderful writers from London and other parts of Europe who had found us, liked what they saw, and decided to submit. A few of our featured authors and artists from this current issue are not Baltimoreans either, yet we are more than happy to invite these wafting seeds to grow symbiotically with us for a while. This is how we are defining what we do, what the little reviews from the small cities (big towns?) like Baltimore ought to be doing. Thinking locally, publishing globally, acting in the best interest of our constituents (writers and readers alike) wherever they may be.

We are living in a time of wonderful opportunity. The internet is an excellent media by which to reach out and yet look in, to stay in contact with the soil and look over the horizon towards more distant pastures. As our magazine continues to grow and adapt over the years, we hope that you will stay with us, that you will monitor our progress, allow us to nurture you while you nurture us in turn, as we send forth our tendrils ever skyward, and continue to define and to survive in the delightfully competitive middle ground. As Baltimore continues to prosper, so will we. But we couldn’t do without a little help from outside.

Thank you for your continued support throughout the two years of our existence. We couldn't do it without you all.