Elizabeth Weise

USATODAY

SAN FRANCISCO — Long known as a haven for artists, activists and folks on the fringe, the San Francisco Bay area is now largely unaffordable to the very people who made it such a beacon.

Soaring housing prices have sparked even greater consequences farther afield, where unpermitted and sometimes unsafe spaces have become the center of the arts community.

The Oakland fire that killed at least 36 people over the weekend set ablaze a warehouse cluttered with impromptu — and unlicensed — artist studios and living spaces, and an open second floor used for concerts and parties. One rickety staircase was the only way down for those fleeing the fire from upstairs.

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The San Francisco arts scene many Americans picture long ago moved to Oakland and beyond. North Beach may have been affordable in the 1960s, but the 1990s and the first tech boom ushered in an uptick in the cost of living.

The rise of the second tech boom in the past six years prompted warehouse spaces and lofts in San Francisco’s formerly industrial areas — once home to artists — to rapidly give way to high-end condos and live-work spaces that only start-ups with venture capital funding can afford.

Artists, especially young ones, simply don’t have that kind of money.

“People don’t always have first and last month’s rent and a security deposit, they don’t make enough money for that. Say rent is two grand. That’s six grand to move in — that’s a lot of money for an artist or a young person,” said Rusty Blazenhoff, who's long been involved in the larger arts scene, including Burning Man.

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Real estate prices in the San Francisco Bay area have gone through the roof in recent years. That’s partly the result of an influx of high-paid tech workers and also a dearth in new home construction due to resistance from local communities.

The area gained 500,000 new jobs but only added a little under 56,000 units of housing in the past six years, according to the California Department of Finance and the Metropolitan Transportation Commission, a regional planning organization.

The average rent for a one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco in 2016 was $3,373, according to Rent Jungle. In Oakland, the average for a one-bedroom was $2,778. In comparison, the average rent in New York City was $2,826,according to the site.

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Blazenhoff has seen many friends deal with substandard living spaces because there was nothing else available they could afford. “Tech has really changed the scene, but not everyone can work in tech,” she said.

Some friends who live near the Oakland warehouse that caught fire have dealt with problems such as sewage backing up into their living space and major structural issues.

“They don’t want to complain because they don’t have anywhere to go. It becomes a question of staying put or facing homelessness. It’s kind of ridiculous,” she said.

Oakland’s downtown area was once inexpensive but it, too, has become popular with tech companies and consequently seen rent prices rise.

Today, there are artists workspaces and collectives in Oakland’s Fruitvale and Jingletown neighborhoods, but even those have become too expensive for many.

“I’m hearing a lot of artists (are) moving to San Leandro, because it was cheaper — for about five minutes,” said Blazenhoff, referring to the working class town eight miles southeast of Oakland.

Blazenhoff and many others note artists create spaces that draw others, often beginning a process of gentrification that in the end pushes them out.

“Artists bring culture. They come here to find their people, to find their community,” she said.

Making spaces

No one chooses to live or attend events in potentially hazardous spaces simply because they're inexpensive, many in the artists' community say. But the low cost also makes them accessible and malleable in way that more mainstream venues never can be.

Before Friday night's blaze, the 10,000-square-foot building in Oakland housed an artist’s collective known as Satya Yuga and a living space known as Ghost Ship, where revelers enjoyed an electronic music party before the fire broke out.

These types of spaces are not about making a buck, they’re about creating an “ambience and environment that you can tell isn’t corporatized,” said Vikram Babu, 35, an Oakland app designer.

The attraction for many who are part of the larger creative community is that these underground venues are accessible, with minimal cover charges. They also let people bring their own alcohol, keeping the cost of going out much lower.

“When you go to see these bands at a ‘real' venue, there’s often a hefty door charge and $12 drinks,” he said.

Few people seem to understand the links between unaffordable housing, a lack of good-paying jobs for working people and the creative drive that pushes artists to find less-than-ideal solutions, said Babu, who has both lived in and organized independent venues for housing and performances.

“These are real, intractable problems that sprinklers aren’t going to solve,” he said.

Zoning, not costs

Others say zoning, not the influx of tech companies, is the real culprit. Artists need space where they can make art — where they can weld, etch with acid, construct and generally not worry about the carpets or the neighbors when they use power tools in the middle of the night.

That's why they have long been drawn to warehouses and other large, industrial spaces where they could work in peace with the light and space they need.

“There’s a barrier to moving the properties from one use to another. There’s not a fluidity between zoning and permitting. So it’s years and years and hundreds of thousands of dollars you have to spend,” said Cheryl Edison, a strategist working with The Gate 510, a large mixed-use space in San Leandro.

The Gate 510 began life as a Dodge Plymouth plant in the 1940s, became a mall in the 1970s and then shuttered. Today, it houses a Home Depot and brewery on the ground floor and space for artists, tech companies and makers above.

“The truth is ... these buildings are out there. But we need to re-engineer our system so that they can be shifted to different uses, so developers can know how much it will cost to transform these spaces,” she said.

There are dying malls and derelict manufacturing spaces across the country, but without clear and reasonable zoning transition programs, there’s no way for them to become the vibrant creative spaces Edison feels they could and should be.

“We make a proposal and the fire marshal says ‘No’ and walks away. That’s the system that’s currently in place,” she said.