fremont fine art foundry

An historic photo of the Fremont Foundry, built by Peter Bevis, with an art gallery, classroom, foundry, outdoor sculpting space and ten living units for artists. Peter lived in the midst of it all on the top floor. The fanciful mural on the side wall was painted by his friend, sculptor Richard Beyer, and has been whitewashed by the current owner.

[from Peter Bevis oral history]

FINDING FREMONT

When I got to Fremont in 1978, I met Susie Owen, Roger Wheeler and Rich Beyer. Rich walked me up and down the street and introduced me to a woman named Kay Willis. The house next door to her had been abandoned for 13 years and the vegetation flowed across the sidewalk and into the street. You literally had to walk in the street in this neighborhood – it was that abandoned!

For some reason, Kay had refused to sell her property to the dog food factory across the street. So she said I could buy it—she owned 3 lots. No banks would lend money in Fremont. So Kay Willis sold her property to me with a real estate contract: $2,500 down and $250 a month. She trusted me. This was amazing!

In 1993, Peter Bevis working with the foundry crew to cast a dead moose for Bevis’ “Moose Meets Train” series. See photos HERE.

So, wanting to build a foundry, I tore down the house with my own sledgehammers, put the debris into dumpsters and built a gallery. I wanted to build a foundry and I built a gallery. I still don’t know how that happened. I do things backwards, I guess…

I built the gallery in 1980. It opened in 1981 with the first show opening in May ’81. It was the “Fremont Fine Arts Gallery” and the “Fremont Fine Arts Foundry.”

I did my first bronze pour behind the gallery. I got a commission – my first! – to make an “N” that pointed north for a patio on Queen Anne. Out behind the gallery in the backyard, I dug a round hole in the dirt and I got a $50 deposit on the job, so I bought a crucible that I could pour the metal with. I disconnected the gas line from the house I lived in to run the burn-out kiln to melt the wax out. It took 7 days a week – really low gas pressure – so I had no hot water and I couldn’t cook for a week!

I wanted a professional facility for professional artists to do a professional job..So I get down in the sewer trench and tunnel with my hand into this crucible hole I’d made to be my furnace and I put a vacuum cleaner motor and lit the furnace, melted scrap bronze and made the pour.

As I was breaking plaster off this casting, people were calling from Queen Anne saying, “The cement truck is here – where’s our arrow?....” I literally put it in my car and delivered the sign still hot from the casting.

I would stretch strings in the backyard and did drawings and design for the concrete addition to the gallery. I started out to build myself a place to work and a place to live. The idea grew that, if I’m going to cast bronze there, other people can cast bronze there. And, if I’m going to live there, other people can live there.

And, what are we going to do with all the stuff we make? We’ll put it in the gallery! So, the foundry grew into a bigger concept I hadn’t really intended. Beyer liked the idea and he owned a lot to the east side of the gallery, so he sold me that. So, I stretched my blueprints – now it was getting to be a big building!

BUILDING COMMUNITY
The foundry was built as a transition place for artists to get started, share the tools, see if your career’s going to work out or not. Over the years, I graduated three to four generations of artists out of there. Some have become artists, and some have gone back to jail.

The bank appraised my property at $90K. I though, Wow! That was a $3K pile of wood we turned into $90K! Cool. I pay Kay the $26K and I had $64K left over. I started pouring concrete. It took me a couple of years to get the building permit because Susie Burke fought it tooth and nail. She argued that the zoning code allowed artist studio/dwelling units to take over abandoned warehouses, and that it was not intended for new buildings.

The hearing examiner said, “The zoning code doesn’t say anything about new or old buildings. If Mr. Bevis wants to build a new building for artists – and I don’t know why he would – he may do so.”

We started pouring concrete in January 1984. By Thanksgiving 1984, the walls were up, but we had no roof or floors. It looked like Stalingrad and I was really broke. And, the bills kept coming from the cement company. I was about $25K in debt to them.

So, I fished in Alaska in 1985. That’s what took me to Alaska – fishing with my older brother and I paid off my debts. I continued going fishing until 1993.

I got the building permit for the Foundry signed off in 1987. That doesn’t mean we had furnaces or shelves but we were living there, carving granite, casting bronze and making art with a dozen people living on-site.

We all got together for dinner one night. The talk came ‘round that everyone bought or borrowed a gun to move to Fremont because it wasn’t like it is today. It was abandoned and rough with drug-crazed scary people—we called it, “ManLand.” There were no women and baby carriages in Fremont back then. I remember thinking, “Let’s make this a better kind of community. If we have people living in this abandoned part of town, walking dogs, having a cup of coffee, that how we’ll rebuild this community.”