EDGEWORK




EDGEWORK //
March Dispatch




Art in Motion, Stories in the Making


March has been a month of movement. Across cities, across mediums, across thresholds of exhaustion and inspiration. It’s been about showing up: for the work, for each other, and for the larger shape of what Edgework is becoming.



ROOTS & BELLS: Claremont to Hermitage


I met Jeremiah and Zach at Pitzer in 2006, where collaboration felt like play; the kind that only happens when minds are weird in compatible ways. Those days shaped the kind of art we’re still trying to make and in many ways, Edgework smells of the orange groves and lemon trees we once played. 

Now, I tug on the steeple bell we hung back then and like paint dripped minutemen, we’re summoned for a much-needed retrospective.

Zach’s quick leap to book a flight, Jeremiah’s instinctual grasp of the mission both were clear signals:
This is the work and these are the people to do it with.





📍TENNESEE — Archiving the Prolific

In Nashville, we spent five dense days immersed in the luminous and chaotic world of Jeremiah Gregory, a dear friend and longtime artistic comrade. Alongside Zach Milder, we set out to archive the totality of Jeremiah’s artistic output: a task that turned into a 1,000+ photo learning curve.

What started as “let’s just get it all on film,” ended in a compelling proof of concept. We not only photographed every piece - we laid out printed roughs, organized sequencing, and began to feel the spine of the book we’re going to publish. A kind of visual scripture from Jeremiah’s prolific hand.

On the backend, Zach and I tracked expenses and experimented with the work habits that we want to bring to future projects. This was a trial run for Edgework’s working ethos: above board, accountable, and scalable. We’re learning not only how to make beautiful things, but how to do so with financial and operational clarity: so that future collaborators, patrons, and investors see their place in the long arc of this vision.


    

🏴 PITTSBURGH — Threads of the Network


After Nashville, I made a quick pivot to Pittsburgh and connected with Lexi Bishop—a former gallerist and rustbelt art world whisperer. She’s currently building a platform to connect regional galleries with global collectors—an ecosystem that Edgework could find place. Michael Smyder and I are following up on a web development lead she generously shared.

Simultaneously, Kat Marcan, also surfaced a local contact for web design here in San Francisco.

Michael is energized by the prospect of having an online framework we can begin populating with content. The vision is to build a space where we can diary, document, and showcase—a website that reflects the dynamic, evolving nature of our work. A platform for notes and ideas, but also a home for collectors and curious visitors alike. One we can proudly start directing people toward when they ask: what is Edgework? What’s for sale?


🌉 SAN FRANCISCO — Art as Offering











📍San Francisco —  Revisit the Source


From Pittsburgh, I headed west again—just in time to catch Kevin Keaney’s solo show. Kevin and I connected through MaryMar, during a stretch when I was feeling the absence of creative community. Like two pigments brought together by a brushstroke, she joined kindred spirits.

Kevin’s show was a grounding event. I’d flown across the country for this moment, and it felt charged with intention. His work—visceral, local, pensive—was priced with radical generosity. During his talk, Kevin spoke of the pieces as reflections of his environment and internal landscape, and the crowd responded in kind. Pieces flew off the walls in a frenzy that was deeply personal, as collectors choose artifacts of friendship and memory.

It was a reminder: art lives in relationships. Between people, places, materials. And Edgework lives in that same web.



 Poet and Friend : Ron Myers



This week I met with Ron Myers, a poet whose voice crackles with readiness. He’s entrusted Edgework with a manuscript that we’re shaping into a chapbook. Due to the color requirements of Jeremiah Gregory’s artist book, Ron may very well be the first publication in our nascent catalog. The goal: release before July—to catch the wind he’s riding high as the official Beat Poet Laureate of California—a title on which both Ron and Edgework intend to capitalize, in every good sense of the word.

Ron and I met almost a year ago, in a café tucked at the base of Tank Hill in Cole Valley. I was nervously sorting fresh prints of my artwork at a narrow bar table near the front door, the glossy surfaces catching any fog-muted sunlight the city allowed. 

I was filling the table in colorful sequence just hours prior to meeting MaryMar to pitch my show. At this time, I had the feeling I may be caught in some fate-whispered river that San Francisco had summoned, a river I’d caught like an ant on a leaf.

Those rapids (if you know, you know) brought the next moment and proved my sense true: then, a stranger—Ron—gestured toward the pictures, and I instinctively apologized for hogging the café’s precious latte real estate.

He asked if I was an artist. A fair question, given the mess of images. As I gathered them up, he and his friend leaned in, and what followed was one of those rare, archetypal San Francisco moments—a spontaneous conversation between strangers that blooms into a friendship, steeped in art, language, and whatever animates the soul beneath both.

That friendship has since become something we tend with care. So putting together a book for Ron isn’t just a project—it’s a continuation of what inspires us both. 

Over the past year, I’ve talked his ear off about collaboration as a kind of spiritual antenae, like stacking radio towers to better catch the deep-space hum of the cosmos. And if that signal is caught, then maybe our art is what lets us bounce it back to those with eyes and ears—loud and bright enough to drown out demons and meet authoritarians eye-to-eye.

Now he’s trusted me with something tender: his first collection of poems, soon to have a barcode on the back.

Thank you, Ron—we won’t let you down.












Final Notes


This month tested the limits of stamina, budget, logistics—and proved that the vision holds under pressure. I’m grateful to everyone who helped shape this phase: Jeremiah, Zach, Michael, Ron, Kat, and all of you reading.

    --------
Edgework is not just a name. It’s a practice.

Of showing up at the threshold, again and again.

Of finding each other across time and city lines.

Of making beauty, and craft, and futures—together.



Over and out,

~ Geoff


HQuarter