Mighty River
During the late summer of 2024, I traveled frequently to the mountains to care for my ailing mother. Just weeks before the storm, I had settled her into a care facility located directly across the road from the Pigeon River. When Helene struck, I lost contact with her for five days. I did not know whether she had been evacuated or if she had survived. The fear and helplessness were immeasurable.
Even after the waters receded and the news cycle shifted, the aftermath remained. Streets were lined with huge piles of debris—fragments of lives, livelihoods, and creative futures. In Asheville’s River Arts District, hundreds of artists lost studios, inventory, tools, and works representing decades of dedication and irreplaceable creativity. Being surrounded by the physical devastation was overwhelming—then my mother passed away a few weeks later.
As both an artist and a daughter, I needed a way to process this layered grief—the destruction wrought by the storm and the loss of my mother. I developed a concept for using storm debris to create a large-scale work of art: a “river” constructed from debris and interwoven with lettering and mixed media. I began collecting materials washed up in the wreckage. Friends rallied beside me, contributing found objects that carried deeply personal meaning and served as stark reminders of nature’s force in a fragile climate, such as artwork and gallery receipts, children’s toys, Bibles, flags, medicine bottles, art supplies, and eyeglasses.
Around that same time, my colleagues at the Gregg Museum of Art & Design suggested we collaborate on a WORDS = POWER group exhibition for the fall, building upon the campus initiative I had started earlier in the year. We brought in student poets, artists, scientists, and faculty leaders, incorporating the visual artworks students had created earlier. The exhibition opened on October 30, 2025—almost exactly one year to the day my mother passed away.
This exhibition provided a venue for my “River” concept, which would incorporate words and calligraphy. I realized my dream of a large-scale installation would now have an audience and a place to be seen and experienced. I began to sketch, prototype, test, and map out the idea for the work.
Creating Work for a Museum Exhibition
From the outset, I understood the scale the work would demand; many of the salvaged objects were large. It was important that viewers experience the storm’s reality at true scale. To achieve that, I needed an expansive workspace.
A colleague generously offered me a 5,000-square-foot downtown warehouse—raw, unfinished, and gritty—mirroring the materials themselves: caked mud, sharp edges, torn garments. I carved out time in evenings and weekends to complete the piece.
I laid out four 4' x 8' panels, eventually joining them into a single 8' x 16' installation that would occupy the museum’s main wall. The panels were heavy and unwieldy. For the first phase, I leaned them upright against a wall; later, I moved them to the floor for assembly. The first—and only—time I saw the entire work fully upright was during installation at the museum. The staff lit the piece with dramatic precision. It took my breath away.
I began in early April and completed the work in August, just in time for museum staff to transport the panels. Because of the salvaged materials, they had to be fumigated before entering the gallery.
Creating Through Ruin
My hometown friend, Donna Smith White, graciously allowed me to use her poem “Oh Mighty Pigeon” as the central text of the piece. Her words capture the river’s beauty, the formidable strength of nature, and the resilience of mountain communities. Her poem prompted me to title the installation Mighty River—reflecting both its beauty and its peril.
Planning the calligraphic panels required considerable experimentation. I tested numerous hands and styles, exploring variations in color, density, and scale. Each panel measured 22" x 30". In their initial state, they were pristine, forming luminous squares amid the heavily textured debris.
Then, as both metaphor and memorial, I allowed paint, mud, and fragments of found material to spill across their surfaces. The text remained visible, but altered—transformed by chaos, just as lives and landscapes had been transformed.
Creating Change Through Ink
The opening of WORDS = POWER was an extraordinary event. Students produced powerful visual works incorporating their own poetry as well as historical and contemporary texts. Several students and faculty members spoke that evening. Their candid reflections offered a window into their worlds—their thoughts, fears, questions, and lived experiences—addressing urgent and deeply personal themes.
It was also a full-circle moment for me, reflecting on a year marked by personal storms. The exhibition remained on view through the spring semester, allowing time for programming and tours.
We welcomed the Jaki Shelton Green, North Carolina’s Poet Laureate, for an evening reading and panel discussion that I moderated with student speakers. Her words and reflections resonated deeply, while students enriched the dialogue with layered, lived perspectives.
The WORDS = POWER exhibition and its programming reached across disciplines, backgrounds, experiences, and artistic mediums.
And that, in itself, is power.
