This series highlights working artists currently on staff at the Frye Art Museum. The Frye has a wealth of talented Seattle-based artists working under its roof in many different capacities, each with their own dedicated arts practice outside of their work at the museum. Facilitated and written by Alexis L. Silva, Curatorial Assistant, this series is meant to highlight and celebrate these individuals, showcasing their amazing work and arts practices.
By Alexis L. Silva
It’s quite incredible what a meal can do for our overall mood. Whether it’s our favorite dish at dinner time or a quick snack between meetings, food makes the world go round. What I love about a mealtime is not only the fact that we get to journey through the world of cuisine, but that we often get to share it with others. When I am eating with friends, I like to imagine that I am at a Parisian restaurant drinking wine and chain-smoking hand rolled cigarettes while we dismantle the same topic over and over again. These tender moments of imagination, community, and nourishment are truly what I love the most about being alive. And it all comes together once the plates hit the table.
Cece Edson knows all about making meals and building community, along with the casual knowledge of cement masonry. Her work is expansive, touching on zine making, cuisine, and space building. At the museum, Cece is our Assistant Store Manager where she oversees the Museum Store’s operations, social media content, and more. I got to chat with Cece and learned a bit more about her work here in Seattle.
Tell us about your background. What brought you to Seattle, and what keeps you here?
I was raised in New Hampshire, completed undergrad in Boston, and then packed up a van and headed west. I visited Seattle in the spring of 2012 on a whim and immediately fell in love with it here. At twenty-two, I was totally smitten with Capitol Hill and instantly drawn to the arts, small press, and music scenes. I remember going to shows at the Black Lodge and the old Comet Tavern, making new friends on the back patio at Linda’s and spending hours writing in my notebook over cappuccinos at the Bauhaus on Melrose and Pine. Over the years, these spaces inevitably closed, or changed, and I fell in love with other things about Seattle in their place: working class neighborhoods like South Park and Georgetown, the city’s glorious closeness to water, and my beloved community—my chosen family. I got married and had a baby here! Seattle can break your heart sometimes because of how impermanent things are; the persisting tension fueled by big tech looms heavy. Still, I set my table for my loved ones every single week and it’s rituals like that that keep me rooted here.
How did you get started in zine making and how has it evolved over time?
I started really getting into making zines when I was in college. I was inspired by Riot Grrrl, fanzines, and print media in general; my earliest zines were comprised of art submissions, interviews, collages, and prose. I would use Xerox machines to print them and then assemble each one by hand. My process evolved when I moved to Seattle because the small press and comix community is so strong here. Zines and independent publishing are legitimized by powerhouse organizations like Short Run that host events attracting artists from all over the world. Over time, I taught myself how to use Adobe products and picked up some design tricks to elevate my zines. I found a niche in recipe writing and publishing zines about dinner parties, food, and gathering. I’ve made zines about the genocide in Gaza, the late great Café Presse, being a mom who’s sick all the time—you name it. Zines are physical media that can be about anything, and I love displaying my writing in such a tactile and nostalgic way.
Can you talk about what food means to you and how you utilize it in your practice?
I fell into the fine dining world by accident while still living in Boston and grew a hospitality skillset that carried me through my twenties, igniting a deep passion for food along the way. From 2017–2024, I ran Tender Heart Supper Club, a series of dinner parties that I conceptualized, cooked for, hosted, documented, and then subsequently turned into 10 distinct zines featuring essays, photography, and original recipes. This project was an effort to foster connectivity using food as a catalyst. When my daughter was born, my relationship to hosting changed dramatically. The perfectionism that was instilled in me through my fine dining background quickly dissolved, and I became so much more eager to collaborate and ask for support. When I organically outgrew Tender Heart Supper Club, I chose to use what I learned from that experience to conceptualize a benefit dinner series called Peace Meal, a much more collaborative endeavor that supports mutual aid initiatives and fundraises for multiple families in occupied Palestine. I organized four Peace Meal gatherings last year, once again finding an enduring quality in the power of a shared meal to bring folks together.
Walk us through how you build recipes. Are there any special ingredients that hold meaning to you?
When I think about building recipes, I don’t just think about flavors but about method and presentation. I ask myself: Where will this meal be held—at a table or on a picnic blanket? With folks who know each other well or who are gathering for the first time? Sharing a meal can be deeply intimate, and I’ve found that there are ways to enhance that intimacy by making thoughtful choices about the menu. One consistent choice I’ve made over the years is serving meals family style. This creates immediate connection in that guests become invested in making sure everyone around them has what they need. I like meals that are participatory, rather than simply self-indulgent, in this way. I like, Hey, could you please pass the tomatoes over here?
Now, when it comes to taste, I strive for depth and big flavors. I like salt. I like vinegar. I love high quality butter and olive oil. I really like covertly incorporating anchovies into chili oil garnishes. I always try to keep some kind of five spice, fennel, cumin, and turmeric on hand. I cook with za’atar regularly. I’ve become very drawn to Levantine flavors and breaking bread with many small mezze-style dishes on the table at once. It will always take at least three hours for me to roast a chicken, low and slow. I like taking my time with it, letting flavors build gradually, letting things caramelize or simmer until they fall off the bone with tenderness.
Photo: Matthew Macy
Photo: Matthew Macy
You’ve mentioned that in a past life you were a cement masonry apprentice. Can you talk a little more about that and how you might still see those teachings echoed in your current practice?
In what sometimes feels like a fever dream, I was a cement masonry apprentice from 2001–2024, reaching just shy of Journeyman level before finding myself interviewing for my current role at the Frye. Concrete work was a bridge from my life in restaurants to where I am now, and I will forever be grateful for that experience. In cement masonry, I learned over and over again that setting yourself up for success in the preparation phase is the most important part of a day’s work. Building a solid form, meticulously caring for your tools, double checking your measurements, fully cleaning an area before laying concrete—all these things take up 90 percent of your time. It’s just like this with menu preparation, with hosting a dinner party, with organizing an art show: prep is everything. This lesson constantly echoes in my writing practice and organizing efforts, as does endurance, clear communication, and a disciplined work ethic.
Tell us about your vision for the future of the Seattle arts community.
In the future, I want to see more executive-level tech workers and companies positively hurling money at the arts. I want to see them pouring money into free studio spaces for emergent artists, endless grant opportunities run competently and compassionately, and more would-be new developments made into DIY spaces instead of sitting vacant. I want more all-ages venues so I can go to shows with my kid! I live in Burien now and I want to see more opportunities for artists who are raising families in the South End. I want it to be easier to put on shows, dinners, or one-off events to enrich communities without the hefty price tag. I want the city to make it easier for more arts orgs to buy old buildings like Common Area Maintenance just did. I want to see more resource sharing and abundance for everyone. More, more, more. Artists deserve the world, okay?
Where can people find you?
Look for me at zine and art book fairs around Seattle, at the Frye Art Museum Store behind the counter, on Instagram less and less, and hosting Peace Meal 05, slated for this winter.
