In the 1970s and ‘80s, Jon Michael Riley made a lot of money as a corporate and commercial photographer, and his work anchored advertisements in major magazines. “I had a client tell me one time ‘Well, we like to use you because you speak the language down here,’” Riley said. “Soon as I get to the south, my southern accent would come back.” Riley’s work brought him all over the country, and he took advantage of the travel to shoot his own landscape and still-life photos. He and his wife moved

Like a lot of people fresh out of college, Hannah Kaminer found herself a little lost. So she left a life and teaching job in Waco, Tex. to return where she grew up. Her parents had divorced, so without a family home awaiting her in Black Mountain, she moved in with friends in Asheville. “I mean, I loved teaching, but without community and connections, it’s really hard to live in a place,” Kaminer said. Back in the North Carolina mountains, Kaminer fell in with a small group of people who

If Yousef Natsha had his way, Israeli immigration officials would allow his partner back into the country, and Natsha would continue capturing video and photos of Palestinians living under the gun of the Israeli Defense Forces. But for now, Natsha and his partner are in Asheville, in the town his partner was raised, taking advantage of a fiancee visa to promote his new documentary, “Hebron,” to the people he believes need to see it most. A free screening of “Hebron” and a post-film panel

Everywhere you turn inside Sassy Frass Consignment , your eye catches bejeweled, gleaming crosses and other Christian symbols sprinkled among t-shirts, furnishings, glass baubles and other nicknacks . Then there are very different signs about one special chapter in the store’s history -- the charred doors left behind by a firey Molotov cocktail and the giant block letters that temporarily hung on the building’s facade, spelling out Ebbing Police Department. Two springs ago, cast and crew spent

Michael Jefry Stevens stuttered badly when he was young, nearly died 20 years ago in a mugging and once declared bankruptcy. So it’s a little odd to hear Stevens say he believes he’s the beneficiary of good karma. “Basically I have a spiritual philosophy that if you do the right things, the universe will help you at the appropriate time,” Stevens said. “So far in my life, that has happened.” Stevens lives with his wife in Black Mountain. He has just released another album of his own music, but

In a way, Honor Moor has Donald Trump to thank for becoming a playwright. “You asked me why I wanted to write a play. I think it’s more I had to write this play,” Moor said. “All the news was so compelling that I felt I wanted to get it down and I wanted to get it out. For me, probably, I felt like many people, hey, it was a way to digest all of it.” Moor is an Asheville native who performed on stages off-off-Broadway and in Seattle before returning home with her husband to raise her two

Nina Kawar ’s studio is the former principal’s office of Marshall High School , but her artwork gives this room the air of a science lab. Here, against natural light pouring in through a wall of old windows, Kawar makes eery, twisted, bone-like sculptures from porcelain. At first glance, you wonder what creature these could have come from. But step close to look at the stains, crevices and fractures -- there are human stories here. “I found I was interested in our understanding of ourselves and

What started with a question about the future of a parking structure has led to a dynamic effort to develop affordable spaces in the city for creatives to live and work.

If there were a convenient way to do so, Constance Humphries would invite all her audiences inside her Asheville townhome to watch her perform. “A gallery situation or small venue or even a house is ideal because I can be very close to my audience,” Humphries said. “I like to look at them, look in their eyes. I like to get in their space -- not in an aggressive way, but in a supportive way.” Humphries practices the art of butoh dance. Here, she’s rehearsing in her carpeted bedroom, where there’s

There are t-shirts and bumper stickers, and no doubt city politicians have run on the campaign slogan -- Keep Asheville Weird. “Asheville walks that fine line of being proud to be weird, but some people are also like ‘But I don’t want weird,’ you know?” said Jocelyn Reese, talking about the city’s annual bow to unabashed weirdness called the Asheville Fringe Arts Festival . Reese and her partner Jim Julien are co-directors. The festival is four nights of theater, dance, eye candy and