Anthony Nsofor gets to his studio at the Torpedo Factory Arts Center around 11 a.m. and will work through 6 p.m., sometimes later, using oil, acrylic, and charcoal on canvases to explore themes of race and belonging. His space, the size of an average college dorm room, boasts dozens of paintings on the walls and easels, just a fraction of the more than 50 paintings and 80 drawings he says he’s completed in the studio since he moved in a year ago.

Throughout the day, visitors poke their heads in to observe Nsofor work, ask questions, and — the jackpot — purchase Nigeria-born painter’s creations. Around 1 p.m., a couple from Toronto stops in to ask about his practice and discuss their recent travels. The visitors who pass by trigger something creative inside Nsofor: “I’m like a vampire,” he says. “I feed off people’s energy.”

Some artists would balk at the thought of strangers disturbing their creative process, but Nsofor says it just comes with the job. In fact, an artist’s ability to engage with the public is part of the new criteria for landing a studio at this Alexandria city government-owned arts center, which provides workspaces for more than 160 artists and remains one of the largest collections of publicly accessible studios in the country.

And while Nsofor describes himself in vampiric terms, he is also fresh blood — part of a new wave of artists who’ve arrived at the factory in the past year following changes in the studio selection process. It’s one of many changes the city has enacted or is considering in hopes of increasing foot traffic at the waterfront building. Both the city and resident artists want to attract more visitors, but they don’t always agree on how to do that.

The city has commissioned 15 studies over the past two decades to come up with a set of proposals to ensure the “vibrancy and sustainability” of the Torpedo Factory. Those proposals have included a major renovation that would reduce studio space — something many of the artists aren’t in favor of. That leaves the arts center’s tenants — even the most enthusiastic, like Nsofor — anxious about the future. They should get a glimpse of the city’s direction next month, when the Alexandria City Manager’s office presents the city council with several options at a legislative meeting in December.

“We have studied it to death”

The city took over management of the Torpedo Factory in 2018 after years of it flip-flopping between different entities. They started to look at a path forward, but before city officials made any decisions, the pandemic hit and took the center’s visitors along with it. That foot traffic has not fully recovered; more than 580,000 visitors came through the doors in 2019, compared to just over 445,700 in all of 2022 and 476,617 so far in 2023, according to city data.

Mayor Justin Wilson, however, argues that enthusiasm for the factory was down long before the pandemic. Residents often tell him they love the Torpedo Factory, he tells DCist/WAMU — but when he asks when they last visited, they respond: “Oh, there was a time 11 years ago, my cousin was in town from Poughkeepsie, and I brought him there.”

Reflecting on this, Wilson adds: “It’s the idea of the factory that in some ways is what people love.”

That’s why the city must figure out how to reposition the massive property that sits on the banks of the Potomac River, surrounded by bustling restaurants and shops, according to Wilson.

“We have studied it to death,” Wilson says. “We have brought in consultant after consultant.”

One consulting firm proposed turning the factory into a multi-use development with a restaurant, retail space, and rooftop bar, which would reduce the studio space by up to 39% — a concept the artists have petitioned against.

“There have been so many studies over so many years,” says sculptor and Torpedo tenant Lori Katz, who makes mixed-media paintings that have decorated Netflix sets. “The city just keeps paying consultants, and they haven’t moved on anything, ever. And this is the first time that I think perhaps they’re going to move on something. But we don’t know what it is.”

The artists and some local advocates have made it clear they don’t want a restaurant or major retailer to replace a large portion of the studios on the first floor. Some artists fear they will be pushed out completely. It’s a cycle second-floor sculptor and jewelry maker Natalie Abrams says she’s seen too often: Creative people work for cheap in a neighborhood and bolster its cultural relevance, which attracts developers, who then raise the cost of living or working there until the creative types get replaced by corporations that can afford it.

Says Abrams: “I really believe that Old Town, Alexandria, the government, and the business association need to decide: Do they want this to be an arts district, or do they really want it to be just another chic neighborhood for high-income people?”

Searching for a new manager

Whether or not major changes come to the space itself, artists and government staff can agree that there needs to be a change in management.

The city’s Office of the Arts — part of the Recreation, Parks, and Cultural Activities department — has been running most of the center’s programming for the past several years. Some artists say the office has been too hands-off and that staff shortages have led to a dip in promotion of their exhibits.

“We need somebody managing us that really has the Torpedo Factory as the thing they’re working for,” says artist and Alexandria native Lisa Schumaier, who first juried into the Torpedo Factory in 2004 and has a first-floor studio. “I think that we’re a good enough thing and an interesting enough institution that we deserve to have our own marketing and our own manager.”

A group of stakeholders — artists, citizens, and city leaders who share a vested interest in the center — are also calling for more public arts programming; better visibility and signage to attract visitors; and a modernized events space. Much of that would require a full-time manager, however.

Mayor Wilson agrees the current arrangement isn’t working. He says it’s not the city government’s role to run daily operations for an arts facility, and he hopes a new, third-party manager could “breathe life into it without changing the core of what we love about the factory.”

At a scheduled December legislative meeting, the City Manager’s office plans to present research on how similar facilities elsewhere in the country are managed and seek feedback from the city council before setting a timeline for selecting a new manager.

Diversifying the artist pool

One part of the vibrancy plan that is working well, some say, is the new jurying system for selecting artists implemented in 2022. The goal has been to diversify the “art and artists” in the factory, per Wilson.

Rent on the leases is below market rate — less than $17 per square-foot per year, with a 3% yearly increase — meaning competition for the taxpayer-subsidized studios is fierce.

The arts office appointed a more diverse pool of judges — professors and artists representing institutions across the region — and added an emphasis on applicants’ personal experiences, professional history, intended use of the studio, and ability to communicate their ideas.

As a result, more than a dozen longtime Torpedo Factory artists had to vacate their studios last year after other artists were selected to replace them, which caused friction. But the move has so far increased LGBTQ+ representation and brought more artists of color into the building, according to a review of the process and the artists themselves.

Before he was juried into a second-floor studio last year, muralist and collage artist Rashad Ali Muhammad says he didn’t see many young artists of color at the factory and wondered if this space would be a good fit for him. After securing a studio, Muhammad has been primarily focused on running his small business.

“My perspective, as a Black, queer person in this space: I don’t give a shit about all the politics,” he says. “As long as I can do my work, I’m focused on that.”

A self-described business-minded millennial, Muhammad says he thinks the artists’ criticism of the arts office is a “missed opportunity to work with the city to make change.” He also believes that new audiences will be attracted to the Torpedo Factory if artists from more diverse backgrounds are given studios.

Artists say their concerns are being heard

Despite underlying tensions between the city government and the artists, the two parties have found ways to work together. In August, 164 artists (nearly every artist in the factory), signed a petition requesting the extension of the leases from three to five years. It also called for a more dedicated marketing model for the programs and exhibits.

That petition has led to productive conversations with the city so far, says artist Rosemary Feit Covey, one of its authors. Artists are now meeting with Jim Spengler, director of the Recreation, Parks and Cultural Affairs office, and members of his staff to brainstorm ways to market the center. The city is also supportive of the lease extension, she says, but the city council would need to vote for this change.

“It is a highly collaborative and positive experience,” Covey wrote over email about the conversations taking place. “We are still in the early stages but are hopeful we will have some clear plans soon.”

Abrams, the second-floor sculptor and jewelry maker, thinks the city has good intentions. In particular, she’s a fan of one proposal from architecture firm SmithGroup that involves a glass-blowing studio and tech workshop to support artists like her who work with large equipment. As for other uses coming in, she doesn’t mind the grab-and-go shop, Union Sandwich Co., that opened over the summer in the storefront adjacent to the studios and would even welcome a more permanent, small cafe on the first floor. (Over the years, some coffee shop and bakery pop-ups have occupied vacant gallery space.)

Abrams hopes whatever path the city council decides to pursue in the coming months, it could yield more attention to the artist tenants.

“I’m concerned that [the city government officials] don’t really take us particularly seriously as businesses,” says Abrams. “You can’t have a business in obscurity. People don’t show, and you can’t pay the bills.”