Old Friends | A Tribute to Ed Gilbert

For over three decades, Ed Gilbert was a beloved figure in the San Francisco and international arts community. His work at Gallery Paule Anglim, and later, Anglim Gilbert Gallery, was always underscored by an abiding belief in artists and the creative spirit of Northern California. His passing on July 19th, following a brief battle with cancer, has been deeply felt by all those who knew him.

Old Friends | A Tribute to Ed Gilbert is a digital exhibition that speaks not only to his artistic sensibility as a gallerist, but to the wide-reaching impact of his life and mentorship. The Anglim Gilbert Gallery family is pleased to present a selection of artworks and written tributes dedicated to Ed’s memory.

“I was in awe of Ed from the moment I met him. His sly humor, his careful and attentive eye, his manner. The stories of life and the his circle of friends compelling. And enviable. When he was your friend and confidant, you were part of a wonderful world. Rare and remarkable, he will be forever loved and forever missed.” — Annabeth Rosen

“I met Ed and Paule in 1997 when I was leaving UC Davis after receiving my MFA. They gave me my first show in San Francisco and have supported my work with generosity and sincerity ever since. As artists, we rely on supportive relationships with gallerists to carry and nurture our work. Ed and Paule were not only exhibiting the work of their artists, but they did so with a deep and real interest. To have that type of working relationship coincide with a friendship, for so many years, is rare.

Ed was gentle. Ed was generous. Ed was funny. I will miss him very much. How sad it is to lose him. I remain thankful for everything he brought to my life and my art-making. I wish nothing but love and light to Kern and their two boys.” — Carter

“Thank you for being our dear friend and enthusiastic supporter from the day we graduated from the Art Institute. We have lived, at times, far apart, but your incredible hospitality always made us feel at home whenever we were at the gallery. Even when long periods had gone without much contact, we felt close and we were always sure our works were in the best hands. We are so sorry to see you go, so soon, far too soon. We talked on the phone not long ago, about plans, art and life, and we were looking so much forward to seeing you again.

Dear Ed, your life was a true inspiration and we will always keep you deep in our hearts.” — Synne + Dragan, Bull.Miletic

“My first studio visit with Ed was in graduate school, in the cramped and creaky SFAI studios on Market Street. To me, he seemed like a man who had seen everything, but he made me feel unique in that first meeting and in the years that followed. In many ways, he introduced me to the commercial gallery art world, but that introduction always felt reluctant, in the sense that he saw his role as shielding his artists from the art world rather than bringing the two together. In a conversation I once had with Paule and Ed about a Catholic monastery, Ed compared the devotional commitment of the monks to artists; the gallery served as that sort of atemporal refuge, where your faith somehow equated to worth.

Ed was always the coolest guy in the room, but without trying. Time with Ed felt like an audience with a humble prince; he exuded a bemused mastery, and a generally unflappable calm that reflected a long view. He was a protector. I wish we had possessed the ability to protect him.” — Benji Whalen

“Ed. A quiet, soft-spoken man with a loud wardrobe.” — Alice Shaw

“I selected Bruce’s small inkblot, which he framed in inexpensive art supply store frames, because it is the last of a group of twenty-one works we consigned to the gallery in the fall of 2016 as part of Anglim Gilbert Gallery’s exhibition, Bruce Conner: Total Environment, Total Consciousness. This exhibition was concurrent with SFMOMA’s retrospective It’s All True. Twenty sold, including one that Ed bought for his own collection. The group was wonderfully presented on a stepped pedestal in the middle of the old gallery’s main room. It was a wonderful time, with the Trust, the gallery, and the museum working together to celebrate Bruce Conner.” – Bob Conway, Conner Family Trust

“When Ed was at the studio looking through the pieces as we saw them for the first time, since they were covered up in the attic, we discovered Love Think. Immediately, Ed fell in love with the piece! From that moment I always called it ‘Ed’s Piece.’ Only later, after the encrypted words were discovered, did we know it was called Love Think.” – Mary Valledor, The Carlos Villa Estate

“Nina and I were in Korea with Ed and Kern, who had arranged for us all to go to Haeinsa Temple to spend 24 hours as novice Buddhist monks, and see the full set of original woodblocks of the Tripitaka Koreana and the special building where they have been housed since the 1200s. We donned grey polyester Buddhist outfits. We sat cross- legged on the floor of a large hall listening to a long lecture, meditated, and then ate supper out of a set of nesting food bowls in total silence. Even the bowls were not allowed to make a sound when re-stacked. Ed with his shaved head looked fabulous and quite the monk.

“In the evening lesson we couldn’t figure out why the translator kept mentioning ‘light mints.’ Kern later explained it was her translation for ‘enlightenment.’ Our leader was very impressed with Ed and told him he looked like Steven Seagal and at the end gave him the nicest bead bracelet. But who’s keeping track? Before bed that night, the four of us met up, pooled our pocket change, and split a coffee and a candy bar from the snack machine. Ed put his palms together, bowed and said, ‘May we all receive light mints!’ Ever since then we have wished each other light mints.” — John Zurier

“In 2014, Paule and Ed agreed to a survey show of my wax paintings from the late 1990s. It was this series of paintings that first brought my work to Ed’s
attention back in 1996 and subsequently brought me onboard to the gallery. Having long loved these paintings, at the show’s end, Ed reached out to me. His email subject line: ‘Desire and Inspiration.’

“Here’s what he wrote, ‘As I watched sadly as some of the paintings left to
go back to your studio, I had an inspiration. I would like to buy this painting … Is this okay? Give me this pleasure! I will love looking at this every day!’

“Ed, I will miss you every day. I hope my painting provided you great joy.” — Dean Smith

“The fondest memories I have of Ed are the ones where he would unexpectedly make me laugh. He had asked me during a studio visit about how my teen daughter was doing. At the time, she was doing what she was supposed to be doing, pushing boundaries. And I was doing what moms are supposed to do, creating guard rails at every turn and bend in the road. It was all normal parenting stuff, but of course, exhausting. He calmly, quietly, effortlessly smiled and said, ‘Oh, you just found out she’s not perfect.’ I remember thinking, ‘Just you wait Ed!! You’ll see what the teen years bring .. .!’ And him saying he couldn’t wait to ask for my well-earned wisdom.

“Registering conversations often takes me time, and I remember thinking later that evening, why does it often feel like I am reading a book from the late 1800s every time I talk with Ed? It was as if he was from a different time and space, a world that fell perfectly into place. His thoughts and words could thread together poetically in real time, not after the party was over, like they often did for me. Every time we would visit, it felt like he had memorized a future conversation in his perfect outfit, shoes, and mystifyingly matching socks. How did he always know exactly what to say, with a perspective that could make me soften and laugh? My clumsy words, and emotions, meeting his sophistication, speed, wit, and grace.

“Over the course of almost two decades this happened so often with Ed, I came to believe he was from outside of this world, a better one, but had decided to grace us with his presence for a time. It was always mesmerizing to talk and be with him. I will miss him greatly, and his passing does not feel real.” — Clare Rojas

“Ed was a kind, gentle man with a delightful sense of humor, and a devotion to artists. He will be remembered with fondness and respect.”— David Hannah

“To write anything about Ed Gilbert right now is akin to engage in a conversation one wishes not to have.

“It feels almost like talking behind his back—as the abrupt and brutal loss of Ed still defies belief. Ed was the most self-effacing class act I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in person. Often very colorful and always impeccably dressed, Ed somehow made it seem as if the clothes he was wearing just happened to have landed on him that day, as he tried to quietly and anonymously leave home for work.

“As I suspect was so for many, I never knew Paule Anglim without Ed Gilbert—and I got to know Ed a whole lot better as I heard his disembodied voice speaking to us about Paule at the San Francisco Art lnstitute’s memorial held in her honor, a few yards away from where she used to live. Ed’s eloquence, wit, elegance and ability to speak, at such a moment, about Paule in a way we knew she would have appreciated was a masterpiece in human relations, friendship, social grace, and observation.

“Afterwards,I congratulated Ed. I told him in no uncertain way about how I was impressed by the calibre of his writing, public speaking, and gracious charm. Then I added, something along the lines of, ‘Ed, I feel also a bit awkward as I don’t want with this sudden praise to imply that I’d been underestimating you all this lime.’ To which Ed looked at me with that immense warm smile of his and then retorted ‘Oh! You’d be surprised!'” — Rigo 23

“I suggested COMMON SENSE to Jean for several reasons: it has a picture of the Eiffel Tower, recalling Ed’s time spent in Paris. He would have been amused by the little Traveler’s Expense Booklet and the dried leaves add a bit of melancholy. She thought it was a good choice.” – Bob Conway, Conner Family Trust

“How many shows did we hang, artworks did we see, artists did we talk to, meals did we share? So many! You had the best style, but I had the hair. We will forever share a meal at the Latin cafe.” — Travis Collinson

“I joined Anglim Gilbert Gallery when I first returned from my Prix de Rome year, so this image of Artemis Diana reminds me of our time together, although Ed and I knew each other many years prior when I was with Fraenkel Gallery and Wirtz Gallery. We shared a unique cultural familial history, both of our mothers were Filipina and our fathers were German. We were the exact same age and I adored him. He will be deeply missed.” — Catherine Wagner

“Last two times I saw Ed were once last fall during a visit to my studio at Stanford to check my work in progress for an exhibition this year at the gallery, and earlier this year at my opening reception for my survey exhibition at the Triton Museum in Santa Clara. At school last fall besides seeing works in progress at my studio, like the one I am presenting here, he also came to see my solo exhibition at the Coulter Gallery.

“During the lunch we had together in a cafe next to my studio we had a very nice and long conversation. Among other things, I mentioned to him I had in mind working over found paintings. He got excited and offered me several thrift store paintings from his own collection for me to use. Kern kindly delivered them to our home few weeks ago, right after I had my last conversation on the phone with Ed when we both hoped he may recover.

“Now I keep dearly close in my heart and mind those thrift store paintings. One of those humble paintings hangs in our house and I think of Ed every time I see it (I will not paint over this one). I think it is like a memory of him, unpretentious but magic and magnificent. This thrift store painting is of a full moon at the end of the day, casting light in the darkness of a peaceful landscape, imagined by a non-famous artist that had the dignity of framing it with an equally humble piece of wood. Ed left his light with us and it will stay with all who knew him, especially the many artists he supported so for many years.” — Enrique Chagoya

“I would often drop by Gallery Paule Anglim and Anglim Gilbert Gallery, always unannounced. No matter how busy Ed might’ve been, working away at his desk, he’d set it all aside to engage in conversations with me about everything under the sun. He was a close listener and no matter how far afield we took our conversation, he was always at the ready with a surprising anecdote in response. No topic was too abstruse for Ed. He knew I loved hearing about people he had worked with over the years, and was generous in sharing those stories, especially about those not with us anymore, like Jess, Jay Defeo, and Carlos Villa.”

“Ed had a unique humor: reserved, graceful, nuanced, and constant. His whole being seemed to smile (I’m feeling an unsettling discomfort and hesitation while typing the word ‘seemed’ and adding the past tense of -ed … though Ed would most likely be amusED by it and have a story to tell regarding such a pun in his name). I don’t remember Ed ever saying no to me. Everything was YES.

“When Ed first saw a work of mine, Noh Mask, made from the album cover to the Yes album, ‘Fragile,’ he didn’t skip a beat and relayed a story about living in London in the very same building as the artist, Roger Dean, who made all those Yes album covers. He recounted how, when bringing friends home to his place, they’d often stand before the building and gasp,’You live in the same building as Roger Dean?!’ To Ed, it was no big deal.

“Ed remains in my present, continuing to pass by, whisper advice and smile like the Cheshire Cat on my shoulder. So I’ll keep the “-ed” off the end of pass. Ed’s passing is still unfathomable and will be for quite a while. The word fathom derives from the approximate length of human arms outstretched (about 6 feet, a unit of measurement). It also comes from ‘something which embraces.’ I don’t know that it’s possible to measure what Ed did for me and so many artists, but I felt honored to be embraced by him and to return that embrace wholeheartedly.” — belovED by Colter Jacobson

“Ed always had this teasing dynamic with many of the artists, at least he did with me – very affectionate. He was always aware that I had difficulties with liking my older work, and he would call me when he wanted to include something in an exhibition: ‘Dean, can you look around the studio and let me know if there’s something you hate a little less that we could show?’ That was pure Ed.” — Dean Byington

“I knew Paule since the early 1970s and met Ed when he joined her. All through the years he was helpful and very supportive to me. He came to the opening of a show I had at the Sonoma Valley Art Museum in 2013. It was a cold, rainy Friday night in November. The traffic from the city was horrendous. It took him over two hours to get there. He came in and took his time, looking intently at each piece of work. As he was leaving he gave me his strong, articulate encouragement and a hug. I walked to the door with him and discovered Kern and the boys had made the trip with him and were waiting in the rain in the dark car. With his depth of love and dedication to art, the artists, and his family he was an irreplaceable treasure.” — Eleanor Coppola

“Moon Pie was a piece that I made in the late 90’s and showed for the first (and only) time at Patricia Faure Gallery in Los Angeles. It was during the run of that show when I first met Ed. It’s hard to imagine that he was the same age that I am now as I sit and write this. Ed and Paule Anglim often came to LA during those years and always seemed to show up at Patty’s gallery for a bit of gossip and chopped Greek salads. It was amazingly entertaining. Patty and Paule knew so much and had seen even more. Ed and I would just sit back and watch the two of them endlessly banter. It was a real education.

“Over the years, Ed and I would run into each other both in LA and San Francisco. We always toyed with the idea of working together. The biggest problem was Paule didn’t really like my work very much (and I don’t really blame her, there were lots of problems with it in those early days). Ed, however, always invited me to the gallery and was always super generous with his advice and enthusiasm. While we never managed to find time to collaborate at Gallery Paule Anglim, Ed always stayed in touch and I would always try and visit him when I was working in San Francisco.

“Ed was the kind of person that you just loved to be around and he was always such an interesting, thoughtful, and funny person. Sadly, it’s an odd and unusual thing in the art world to know people who are invested in personal relationships over all the art world hoopla. I always felt our shared friendship and intersecting orbits were more important in the end than any of the art will ever be. It was always fun to run into Ed around the world—be it Venice, or Berlin, or New York, or Los Angeles, or Basel—he never seemed surprised to see you. Maybe he knew things that the rest of us didn’t. Either way, I’ll miss seeing him around.” — Jacob Hashimoto

“Every time I walk on Ocean Beach I encounter a new set of patterns in the sand. I never showed this image to Ed, but somehow I think he might like it, especially if it was printed on fabric and made into a shirt.

“I worked with Ed for 20 years, and knew him casually even longer. I used to frequent Paule’s gallery to see exhibitions by Paul Kos, David Ireland, Terry Fox, and really whomever she and Ed were showing. Once I arrived right at closing time and walked in unnoticed. As I was checking out the small gallery, the lights went off. I exclaimed, and Ed discovered me, and said without batting an eye, ‘Well that’s one way to get into the gallery—to get yourself locked in!’ I was mortified.

“Ed had a great sense of humor. I will miss his elegant and gentlemanly manner and his fabulous wardrobe. He was very respectful (once you were in the gallery-ha) and kind. He always seemed happy to see me, even if he had a hundred things to do that day and probably wasn’t. It was an honor to work with him and with Paule. They always made me feel like an important part of the Bay Area legacy they were dedicated to preserving.”— Gay Outlaw

“I made this image with artist Gala Porras Kim when Ed was visiting me during a residency at the Headlands Artist Residency. Gala had the next door studio. So it was kind of a performance that resulted in an image. A friend living nearby lent me the whale’s throat she had found on the seashore that Gala is holding in the photograph. I remember Ed was so patient and interested in the image. It is a powerful memory of Ed as a quiet gentle presence with great sensitivity and feeling for artists.” — Hannah Collins

“The roster of artists that Paule and Ed put together are stellar. Ed would always know when to let the artist shine and have their moment.” — J. John Priola

“Year of the Tiger was a favorite of Ed’s, and hung in his office on several occasions. The work shared his quiet, mystical perspective on life and art.” — The Joan Brown Estate

“A rock diamond and heart
The art of dead reckoning
A thousand leagues of adrift
Along the equators divide

Sometimes a gracious thought
Lifts the shroud of suspicious doubt
Revealing epiphanies of kindness
And the need to stop time.”
— James Drake

“Small as Channel Twenty-Two is, I love the leap that I see in it, joyous and positive. I’m grateful for the support that Ed gave my work, for we took a few leaps together. I’d like to have known Ed better than I did, but he knew that I thought his tribute to Paule at her memorial was brilliant. What he made happen with the gallery was another masterwork.” — Jim Melchert

“I have known Ed since the early 1990s when I first began showing with him as director of Gallery Paule Anglim, most recently at his own Anglim Gilbert Gallery. Over that time I have known nothing but love and support from him. His gentle voice, gracious smile, and way of being in the world was so special; his generosity and knowledge of artists and art was profound. He was truly unique and loved. It is hard to find adequate words for how much he is missed by those knew him.” — John Roloff

“We know Jess would join us in expressing our deep appreciation for Ed, whose sweet and gentle presence blessed us and everyone who had the privilege of knowing and working with him. His beauty within came out in every exhibit and, indeed, all he did. Our profound thanks, gratitude, and love to our dear friend!” — Christopher Wagstaff, Tibor deNagy Gallery, New York and Christopher Wagstaff, Jess Collins Trust

“Ed’s kindness, humor, and insight were always on offer as a gift to those around him. His calm presence and loyal friendship amounted to something very foundational for me. I will always carry the highest respect and appreciation for the wonderful man that was Ed. Love to all those who loved him and were touched by his graceful generosity.

“In the fall of 1998, I was driving with Ed on a day trip outside Marfa, Texas. Our vehicle was hardly managing the rough dirt road. On the return journey, we approached a steep hill with scattered rocks across the road. Up ahead a car had got itself stuck, held up on a mound of stone fragments. As soon as I had brought our pickup to a standstill, Ed was out and striding up the hill. After a word with the driver, he went head first under the back of the car, undeterred while wearing a completely white outfit. I caught up to the lodged car some moments later, only to find Ed having already cleared most of the impediment. Soon both vehicles were on their way again.” — John Beech

“Ed Gilbert was a prince among men, always calm, diplomatic, kind, and patient. A person full of good will and an instinct for doing what is right in life and art. I was witness to these qualities through the long years when Ed was the second in command at Gallery Paule Anglim. Paule was a wonderful and generous person but a ‘handful’ as they say. Ed was the steady second captain seeing that common sense prevailed. That is not to say that Ed was not in full possession of his own eccentricities and tastes. Ed was a man of the world with many friends and admirers in many lands, all of them eager to speak with Ed because you were guaranteed to receive his full and undivided attention. He was a real pleasure and a remedy in a world full of ambition, pressure and distractions.

“The Anglim Gilbert Gallery was a home base for me since 1974. I like to say the longest artist gallery relationship in the history of the art world! Between Ed and Paule, they were supporters of a vast array of artists that made very different kinds of art from painting, sculpture, performance, sound art, technology, and photography. I have always been very proud of my association with the gallery. Both Ed and Paule made a place where artists have been nurtured and supported and allowed to develop and change on their own terms.

“The last time I saw Ed was in New York in March 2020 at the Independent Art Fair. He was very enthusiastic about his booth featuring Gay Outlaw and Carlos Villa, artists of different generations but both exuberant and visionaries. He was, in spite of having spent the previous evening in the emergency ward in New York, his affectionate calm and charming self and dressed to the nines as always. He will be profoundly missed by all who knew him.” — Judith Linhares

“I would not be the artist that I am without Ed’s ongoing support of my work over 18 years. Notably, my most well-known perfume, Lampblack, was exhibited at the gallery in 2013, long before I had any thoughts about starting a fragrance business. Ed was instrumental in persuading a cautious Paule that Lampblack could be taken seriously as a work of art and exhibited as such. A vote of confidence that was deeply encouraging to me at the time.” — Bruno Fazzolari

“I met Ed in 1978 in San Francisco. He worked in Paule’s gallery as a jack-of-all- trades and I worked in her home as her cook. Our bond was created early as we were both steeped in the Bay Area punk scene and both subject to Paule’s unpredictable moods. He helped install my first show in the gallery’s basement, featuring my Aggressive Women series of women advertising for male slaves and virgin martyrs. Ed was a delicious fashion plate even then. Over the many years of our friendship, he was loyal and understanding, supportive, and wise. I will miss him dearly.” — Katherine Sherwood

“I first befriended Ed in the 80s, when he came to the San Francisco Art Institute to enlighten a few of us scruffy undergrads as to the strange and mysterious ways of galleries. Over the years, Ed continued to be a kind and warm friend as well as a mentor helping me to navigate a world I often felt awkward in. I will miss his studio visits but, most of all, I will miss his wisdom, his honesty, his humor and, of course, his style.” — Keith Hale

“His inner sweetness could not be concealed.”
– Leonard Cohen, from A Book of Longing

“It’s been ten years since my partner Ken Graves and I moved to California. Shortly after arriving we were introduced to Ed and Paule. Their enthusiasm for Ken’s collages led to Anglim Gilbert Gallery taking a chance exhibiting the work. Ken has since passed away so it is left to me to say how grateful I am for the support shown to us. Ed’s passing is both a personal loss as well as a loss for the art community. It is a testament to how much Ed meant to the artists he represented that so many have turned out for this tribute. What made Ed so dear and so unique as a gallerist and curator was his respect for his artists, his humility, accessibility, and his passion for art. He will be remembered with much affection and will be terribly missed.” — Eva Lipman, partner of Ken Graves

“This painting was the last work that Ed wanted for the gallery, and the colors and patterns remind me of some of the fantastic clothes that he wore. Amongst all of the spectacular traits and characteristics of our Ed, I always think of dynamic color when I close my eyes and think of him.” — Leo Bersamina

“Dearest Ed,

I am thinking of the past four decades filled with a history of your kindness. Your door was always open and you had time to listen and give advice. I remember our times in Germany, London, Basel, and New York where you knew everyone and blazed a rich legacy of aesthetic care that will continue to sustain over time. I have embedded the deepest appreciation for the relevance and unconventional wit with which you fashioned your extremely generous life.”

Eternal love,
Lynn

“Ed and I had a friendship beyond the art world. On one occasion, we went to a bar in Oakland, and a band was playing, and the next thing we knew, we were both dancing. The same thing happened when Lava Thomas had a party after my survey show at the Richmond Art Center. By then, I had not danced in a long time, and neither had he, but we were both able to keep up with the beat.

“Ed had a great sense of humor and we would laugh at so many things, especially the crazy things that happen in the art world, or at an opening when a person would like for you to explain in detail about how to make a particular piece while others are trying to get your attention. Those of you in the art world know what I’m talking about.

“Ed and I talked about recipes, and he was a fabulous cook. He would combine unexpected ingredients that he acquired from his travels around the globe. He loved going to Flora’s on Columbus, where he would be greeted by the former owners who would bring out special dishes just for the table.

“We both loved clothes, and Ed was one of the best dressers around. He had real style and his shoes were magnificent. Last February, my work was included in the ADM Art Show at the Park Avenue Armory. He was so ill, and still managed to run the booth.

“Ed was brilliant and could see things in your work that others may not have noticed. He then could relate that to social issues of the day. If you were lucky, you may have had the opportunity to hear him switch from one language to another with ease. I truly miss him.” — Mildred Howard

“I only got one year of Ed. He came to my studio July 10, 2019 and I fell in love. While I made him a cappuccino, I let him loose in my knick knack shelf. He exclaimed, ‘My mother had that doll!’ and we were off and running! Things moved fast, and after a couple more visits, we planned my show and began preparing for the Frieze Art Fair in NY for May of this year. I left my body when he said he’d take my Pompeian Villa, paintings, and sketchbooks for a solo booth.

“The week we were to begin wrapping work and measuring for the truck, the fair was cancelled due to Covid-19. And then Ed got sick … days of agonizing worry and waiting. I treasure the few sweet moments I had with Ed. He changed my life. I envy the memories his old friends and colleagues have collected. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.” — M. Louise Stanley

“I’ve known Ed for over 35 years. He was a very good man—very kind and sensitive. He was very committed to his artists as a dealer. I will always have loving memories of Ed.” — Noel Neri

“In 2003, I visited a well-known artist friend of mine. She had just gotten into reading Tarot cards and offered to do a reading for me. The next day, we sat down together and she spread the cards on the table. The first one she lifted was a Prince on a horse. She said, ‘A guy is going to come along, he’s a good guy.” A few months later Ed visited my studio. He offered me a show and Paule agreed.” — Pamela Wilson-Ryckman

“Good bye, old friend, see you later.” — Paul Kos

“I made Stab a few years ago when my friend Liz Collins announced a
‘mending performance’ where she would mend any knitted item that people brought her. I brought a sock monkey, a stuffed toy that had been a part of my relationship with Philip Horvitz, my partner of 12 years. As Liz mends the toy, stories of relationships and death come and go in our discussion, along with the ideas of what can be mended and what is lost beyond repair.

“Ed is one of the first people I remember meeting in San Francisco in the mid-1980s, and during a visit to his house, I recall him opening a door and showing me a fantastical collection of monkeys: gifts, thrift store finds, monkeys of many sizes crowded together. As a fellow collector of items and totems, I loved them, and over the years we would chat about them. The last time I saw him we talked about a new show at the gallery and I shyly suggested that I would love to work on a project with the monkey archive.

“When this tribute was being organized, I immediately thought of how Ed taught me to look at the objects we collect but don’t often take seriously as the bearers of meaning. His monkeys informed the monkey in Stab, and I hope to braid his story into the others.” — Nayland Blake

“Our love to Ed and his family. We miss him already.” — Richard Shaw

“It was always a supreme pleasure and delight having dinner with Ed! This is a painting I did of Ed and Valerie Wade at Piccino in 2012. I will always miss him.” — Rico Solinas

“The last time I saw Ed was at Paule’s memorial at the San Francisco Art Institute. He spoke his own beautiful poem right after a beautiful poem written and read by Bill Berkson, who is also gone now. The last time I spoke to him was on the phone late last fall. We were planning an exhibition of my work, MemWars, in conjunction with a performance at a newly revamped theater in the Presidio, which didn’t pan out.

“Ed and Paule and I worked on a lot of exhibitions and projects at various times over a lot of years. They were great partners and counter eccentrics … Paule’s amazing, wonderful old-school haughtiness and Ed’s brilliant, easy, graceful wonderment. Both true souls who went the distance for their artists. The idea of Ed gone now is hard and ridiculous. It’s impossible to not imagine him still dressed snappy and drifting easily in during the middle of some astounding ‘High Art’ seriousness and laughing his ass off at the goofiest of jokes. Ed was a great heart and one of a kind. Jo Harvey and I loved him and will miss him being on the planet.” — Terry Allen

“ED GILBERT – a fine (hu)man – with a gentle melancholic presence. An attentive listener and reliable confederate. A master of being in C O N S O N A N C E with the artists, their works, and visions. His passing marks the end point of more than 30 years collaboration and friendship between Terry Fox and the legendary Anglim Gilbert Gallery—and maybe the end of an era in the art world—grieve, embrace, continue.” — Marita Loosen-Fox

“In 1965, Paule Anglim was an agent for public sculpture. She represented me, and around 1970, she opened a gallery in her house and then a gallery in North Beach where I had two shows. I was part of her gallery at the time when Paule died. Ed Gilbert took over the gallery and has represented my art ever since. Everyone is sad to see him go and the gallery to come to an end.” — Tom Marioni

“In my first meeting with Ed, I was so excited and scared. Ed made me feel so welcomed. He has always been so warm and very loving. Ed would remark on my car drawings and for myself I am always expanding my imagery. I made this car drawing a while back—it feels like a perfect Ed Gilbert send-off.” — Veronica DeJesus

“I first met Ed in 1987. He was working on a show called New Art of the West to be held at the Vorpal Gallery. He saw my MFA show at the Art Institute and invited me to be part of the exhibition that he was putting together.

“In the summer of 1992, after Ed had joined Gallery Paule Anglim, he selected me as one of the artist for Introductions, a newly created program showcasing new artists. The show helped start my art career and a long positive relationship with Paule and Ed.

“Since then, Ed has been there as a friend, helping me with support, advice, and recommendations. I will miss his dry sense of humor and wit, his inclusiveness, making me feel part of the gallery, and his outfits.” — Tomas Nakada

“One day in the spring of 2016, Ed Gilbert texted me to ask if I happened to be in my studio as he was just outside the door. He came to deliver works to Enrique Chagoya’s studio, which is adjacent to mine in the same building on Stanford campus. ‘Yes, please come in!’

“At the time, I was working on my new Nocturnes series. Ed came in and was unexpectedly faced with three very large paintings, each around 6 by 10 feet, completely different from anything I made that he had seen before. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if anyone would take on this new work, and had not shown it to any of my gallerists. In his calm and gracious demeanor, Ed responded to the new work in ways that are most thoughtful, passionate, and encouraging. Our conversations led to a solo exhibition Nocturnes at the gallery from December 2017 to January 2018. Later one of the paintings, On the Sidewalk (Guangzhou), was exhibited at Art Basel Hong Kong in 2018 with P.P.O.W. Gallery through Ed’s kind introduction and support. — Xiaoze Xie

“Dear Ed,

Thanks for the wonderful times we had together. Your presence in Hawaii, Montana, San Francisco, and Monaco will always be remembered. Debby and I can never forget the lunch we had with you and Paula at the Golden Palace! Two country bumpkins and the worldly sophisticates sharing the world with us.

With love, John Buck.”

“This piece was part of a show based on art made in the studio of dear friends in Iceland, Thordis Siguroardottir, and Gunnar Dungal. John and Nina Zurier taught a painting class in Iceland for several years and Paula encouraged our son Hunter to go. There he and Emma UlenKlees found each other and we all spent a month at a time in Northern Iceland working in the studio on the horse farm.

“I asked Ed if he would consider doing a group show based on our collective joy and inspiration, and he made it happen in November 2015. It was the nicest show I have been a part of and showed such a connection of thoughts and feelings in such different forms. Ed loved poetry works and was brilliant at bringing meaning out of disparate works. It was so generous.

“This piece reminds me of Ed because of its silence and structure. But then he would be incredibly funny and irreverent too. We all will miss him every day.” – Deborah Butterfield

“The cold realization that this is the last message I am writing to you is extremely painful. So I am writing to you imagining your half-amused face reading these words, the way we have communicated for years. Our correspondence, usually riddled with banters, puns, and double-entendre. It sometimes ventured into surrealism when we switched languages at auspicious moments like skillful trapeze artists. There were times when things were very serious also, but never faltering once, we always managed to surmount difficult hurdles.

“When I think of it, I have known you for almost as long as I have lived in San Francisco; well before I joined Gallery Paule Anglim. I was working around the corner in a stagnant architectural office and used to drop by the gallery frequently with the need to refresh my soul. Money was tight then, but I still spent it all on art materials, furiously creating my own work in a very small room. Although I came from an artistic family, I had been warned that a career in art was out of question; that it was too miserable a life to even consider. And since life was already pretty difficult for me those days, I never even dared to dream to be part of your gallery. But one day you asked to see my work and you took a few things to show Paule. The next thing I heard, to my big surprise, they were all up on the gallery walls ready for a solo show. You announced it to me with this expression I know so well but cannot describe, with this faux-serious air and laughing eyes. You said in a singsong voice: ‘Strange things happen …’

“And this is how it all started.

“I am so glad we created what are now very precious memories of your visit to Istanbul, only a few months ago. You took days off of your very busy schedule to be with me for the opening of my first museum show and you accompanied me to all the peripheral events during the biennial openings. You stayed by my side, my frere d’Amerique. Ready to help and encourage me as always, and you held me to make sure I did not stumble, metaphorically as well as physically. I will never forget your generosity. The chance to be with you from breakfast to dinner was bliss. We criss-crossed continents together, braving the crazy drives on the bridge over the Bosporus to catch one more from the long list of events. Thank you for being so patient with me when you called to wake me up in the mornings to remind me what day and time it was. I could swear you spoke better Turkish than I did by the time you had to return home.

“We left a few things to see and do to another time. So we left our adventure deliberately incomplete. Most definitely next year, we agreed. If not earlier … Like me, you travelled a lot too. We have run into each other in the airport on numerous occasions. And we would break into crazy laughter each time, like two conspirators caught in flagrante delicto. Looking for you at airports every time I travel will be a hard habit to shake.

“We often wondered if we might have previously run into each other, having frequented the same places and venues. The same years, in Frankfurt, Paris, and London before landing in the Bay Area. We often compared notes to discover we had strangely similar journeys indeed. And now you are traveling again … you may have caught the comet Neowise we saw briefly in the far skies, passing by our planet before it disappeared with you last July. I will miss you …

“I will miss your morning studio visits when we gorged on scones and tea. Working with you was so inspiring. And the kick-in-the-butt invigorating. There was always laughter, pleasure, vision, and love always. Love always. It is with deep sorrow that I say goodbye to you my dear friend.” — Canan Tolon