Following the first anniversary of Hurricane Helene, I found myself driving the same winding backroads I did last October, retracing the path of destruction with a different kind of weight in my chest. What once looked like chaos, the downed trees, caved-in roofs, and mangled bridges, has now settled into a strange stillness. But for those of us in Appalachia’s creative underground, the storm never really left. It just changed form.
Helene didn’t only knock out power or flood valleys. It shattered spaces that had taken years, sometimes lifetimes, to build. It interrupted lives mid-movement, mid-breath, mid-bead of molten glass. But what’s stayed with me most is not just the devastation, but the way the glassblowing community here rallied quietly, fiercely, and without waiting for permission.
This isn’t a sad story about loss; it’s a story about what happens after.
Photo courtesy of Brandon Simmons
The Heart of the Flame
Walking into Level 42 Gallery in Asheville, North Carolina felt like stepping inside a living organism. Torches roaring, color rods stacked like firewood, artists moving through the space like a practiced dance. Built by best friends Yuri Federmen and Ben Ross, Level 42 wasn’t just one of the largest flame-working studios in the country; it became the beating heart of the Western North Carolina glass scene.
Level 42 had 28 torch stations and over 20 working artists at their peak, all together under one roof. The goal was to create a hub for everyone with retail, wholesale, and studio space combined. They intentionally built the structure a foot above the historic 2004 flood line… but it wasn’t enough.
When Helene hit, the river rose fast. They moved what they could to the second floor, thinking it would be safe. But one of the walls on the first floor completely …
Read More
Author: Alexandra Dubs / High Times
