Tucked away in the quiet hills just off the main drag, the building that once housed an art school in Gatlinburg doesn't make a lot of noise about its past. There's no big sign declaring it haunted, and most visitors walk by without giving it a second glance. But for the people who've lived in town a while — and especially for the artists who spent time inside its walls — the building is more than just another piece of mountain real estate. It's a place that holds something strange. And some say, something still alive.
A Quiet Legacy: The School Before the Spirits
Gatlinburg has long attracted artists — drawn here by the mountains, the isolation, and the raw natural beauty that seems to make the creative process just a little bit easier. In the 1930s and 40s, during a period of cultural revival in the Appalachian region, a small group of painters and sculptors turned a modest building on the outskirts of town into a private art school and studio. It wasn't large — just two floors, with a few classrooms, a shared kitchen, and a wood-paneled library — but it had character. Students came from all over the South to study here. Some stayed only a season. Others never really left.
The original founder of the school was a woman named Eleanor Dorsey — a painter from Nashville known for her Appalachian landscapes and her fiercely independent spirit. Locals said she was more mountain than city. She lived on the second floor of the school for nearly thirty years, offering classes by day and painting well into the early morning hours. When she died in 1971, the school closed its doors for good. But that's when things started to get strange.
The First Reports: Something Just Felt Wrong
The building sat vacant for a while, slowly collecting dust. But eventually, as Gatlinburg began to grow, a few business owners attempted to reopen it. One tried turning it into a small gallery space. Another wanted to convert it into an Airbnb. Neither lasted long.
People who spent time inside the building described the same thing — an overwhelming sense of being watched. One man, who had been hired to renovate the upstairs bathroom, left the job halfway through. When asked why, he simply said, "She doesn't want me up there."
Another tenant claimed to hear the sound of paintbrushes scraping against canvas in the middle of the night, despite being alone in the building. He would walk the halls only to find each room dark and empty — the noise vanishing the moment he stepped inside. One artist who briefly rented studio space said she returned from lunch one day to find her canvases completely slashed. The police were called. The door had been locked from the inside, and there was no sign of forced entry.
The Ghost of Eleanor Dorsey
Many believe it's Eleanor herself who still lingers in the building — protective of the space she once poured her life into. Her former bedroom remains mostly untouched. Despite years of neglect, her easel still stands by the window. A few of her personal items, including a rusted palette knife and a glass jar of old brushes, are still on the shelf.
Visitors who've entered the room often report an intense pressure in their chest — as if they've walked into a space they weren't meant to disturb. A medium who visited the property in the early 2000s claimed to make contact with "a woman in a paint-stained smock who refuses to leave." According to her notes, Eleanor was "waiting for someone," though the medium couldn't determine who.
One of the eerier stories comes from a group of college students who broke into the building during a summer trip. According to them, they found one of the old classrooms lit by what looked like candlelight — except there were no candles. Just a faint glow hovering near the blackboard. One student, trying to film it, claimed his phone shut off and refused to turn back on until they had left the property. When they reviewed the footage later, the phone had recorded several seconds of static — and what sounded like someone whispering, "Get out."
The Basement: Art, Abandonment, and Something Darker
If Eleanor is the spirit most people talk about, the basement is the part they avoid entirely. It's not on any blueprint, and for a long time, it wasn't even clear the building had one. The entrance is hidden behind a false panel in the library, discovered accidentally by a maintenance worker in 1984. Since then, several attempts have been made to explore it — none lasting more than a few minutes.
One local ghost hunter described the basement as "the coldest place I've ever been in Gatlinburg, and I've hiked Mount Le Conte in the snow." He reported disembodied whispers, flickering shadows, and the sensation of someone standing directly behind him. When he tried to descend the final steps, he was suddenly overcome with nausea and bolted back to the main floor.
No one knows what was stored down there. Some think it may have been a root cellar converted for supply storage. Others suspect it may have been where Eleanor did some of her more personal, possibly darker, work — paintings she never displayed, and which have never been found.
The Building Today: Off-Limits, But Not Forgotten
The Haunted Art School is privately owned today. The current owners haven't made any formal plans to renovate it, and it remains closed to the public. But that hasn't stopped paranormal investigators from trying to sneak in. Some have claimed success, sharing blurry photos or short, unexplained audio clips online. Most come away with stories — but few with proof.
Locals tend to shrug it off when asked about the place. "That old school?" one shopkeeper said, "You're better off leaving it be. Some places want to be left alone."
But the stories persist. The whispers continue. And the paintbrushes, they say, still move in the night.
The weaving studio where Martha Ogle's spirit continues to teach
The pottery workshop where three students work eternally
