The River Arts District: Asheville, NC
In the wake of the devastation of Hurricane Helene, let's discuss the history of the River Arts District and why Asheville is such an important city for American artists.

Rivers are ephemeral beings in the long march through time. The Earth lives on, but its rivers shape-shift and evolve; their waters mold the landscape as an artist molds clay.
Some disappear from the map while others endure. The French Broad River, which cuts through the Blue Ridge Mountains, is a grand old-timer at 320 million years old. It’s seen everything: 10,000 years of Cherokee habitation, followed by British colonization and the establishment of the United States, the Civil War and the Emancipation Proclamation, the railroads and boomtowns of the Industrial Revolution. The brutal exploitation and later decline of coal mining. Long before the Digital Age, the riches of industry had largely retreated to glittering enclaves in New York and Philadelphia, and the people of the mountains were left to fend for themselves.
Anyone who has lived or traveled through the region knows that in Appalachia, community and mutual aid are essential. Overlooked by political leaders, cities and towns across the mountains have been forced to reimagine how their communities should evolve (with varying degrees of success).

Asheville, North Carolina is one such place. Nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, whose peaks do indeed possess a cerulean hue from a distance, Asheville is an artist’s city.
Asheville’s beauty won over George Washington Vanderbilt II, a member of the prominent Vanderbilt family—Gilded Age robber-barons whose patriarch, Cornelius Vanderbilt, made his fortune in the railroad industry. His grandson George was far more interested in art and horticulture. George decided to spend his inheritance on creating the Biltmore Estate: 125,000 acres of pristine land on which he built the largest private residence in the United States. The gargantuan construction project lasted from 1889 to 1895. Today, his Châteauesque-style, 178,926-square-foot mansion is a museum open to the public.

The American avant-garde movement of the mid-20th century was also nurtured in the hills and hollers of North Carolina. Just east of the city lies Black Mountain College. Now a museum and art center, Black Mountain was founded in 1933 by John A. Rice, who wished to apply John Dewey’s principles of progressive education to create a liberal arts college owned by its faculty. Renowned for its art programs, Rice’s school embraced democratic governance: everyone was expected to pitch in with farm work, cooking, and construction projects. The school was home to some of the 20th century’s most prominent artists: Cy Twombly, Willem and Elaine de Kooning, Anni and Josef Albers, Ruth Asawa, Jacob Lawrence, Franz Kline, and Robert Rauschenberg are among its alumni and faculty. Additionally, the Asheville Art Museum opened its doors in 1948, and the institution remains beloved today.
Asheville was not immune to the cycle of “urban renewal” and decline that plagued cities across the U.S. from the 1960s to the 1980s. “Urban renewal” is a rather coy term that describes gentrification programs of the era. Instead of actually renewing working class neighborhoods, in practice this meant pushing out low income, often minority groups. The boom-and-bust cycles of industry and urban decay were problems that Appalachian communities knew all too well.
But something began to shift in Asheville during the late 80s and 90s. Where many saw the faded remnants of a once-prosperous, industrial past, artists saw opportunity. The industrial warehouses and storefronts that now sat empty along the French Broad River could be reborn as studios, and soon, the River Arts District was born.

Asheville embraced its artistic history. What was once a tannery site from the turn of the century became a haven of workspaces called Foundation Studios. The building constructed by the William Feed Company in 1901 became first a punk rock club in the late 80s, then a live/work space for artists, and finally a gallery space called Warehouse Studios. 8 River Arts Place, originally the headquarters of an electric company, now housed Black Wall Street Asheville, an organization devoted to supporting Black-owned businesses. The old Phil Mechanic Building was transformed into studios and a non-profit gallery.
All along the French Broad River, one of the oldest rivers in the world, a new generation of painters, ceramicists, glass-blowers, fiber artists, and chefs planted their stakes in the ground.
In one fell swoop, the river washed their haven away.
Hurricane Helene was supposed to pass over Middle Tennessee. I spent the day at my desk in Nashville, another artist’s city, and watched the rain drench the magnolia tree outside the window. Hurricanes can’t reach this far inland, I told myself—a naive assumption in the age of climate change.
The storm changed its path with only a day’s warning. Instead, it would bludgeon the mountains, whose residents received little notice—and as anyone who has driven through the Smokies in the rain can tell you, there are minimal routes out. Over 150 people in the U.S. have died (that we know of) as a result of the storm.

The River Arts District in Asheville, home to over 350 artists, was completely destroyed. Decades of organizing, cooperation, and creativity were washed away overnight.
Appalachian communities are tough. Having spent a good deal of time in Asheville, I believe that they will rebuild. But they will need help. (If you’re interested, the River Arts District is accepting donations, and this list from the Washington Post includes disaster relief funds, supply drives, and volunteering opportunities.)
As the housing crisis and the rise of corporate landlords ravage the U.S., most young artists can no longer afford to live in major cities, making places like the River Arts District all the more important. The River Arts District is not just the heart and soul of Asheville, but a vision of a better future in which artists can work and thrive in supportive environments. Rebuilding may be costly, but this is simply not a place we can afford to lose.
I had friends who closed their studio and shop in Key West around 2000 and joined a caravan of other artists who were being priced out and migrated to Asheville. One of those things where word of mouth says this is the place to come. Lost touch over the years. Hope they survived .
https://ashevillemade.com/making-the-ultimate-remix-can-take-fifty-years/