Last week, as The Late Show officially wrapped its iconic run on CBS, we couldn’t help but think about Future Islands. How had it already been 12 years since the Baltimore indie rock band’s gliding, growling performance of “Seasons (Waiting On You)” on the show—then hosted not by Stephen Colbert, but David Letterman—sent them careening into the cultural spotlight? By that point, the band was already promoting its fourth album, Singles, and local audiences were familiar with the kinetic magic of vocalist Samuel T. Herring, William Cashion on bass, Gerrit Welmers on keys, and, since 2014, Mike Lowry on drums.  

This year marks the 20th anniversary of Future Islands, and in celebration, they’ve released a compilation album, From a Hole in the Floor to a Fountain of Youth, out now as a double LP via 4AD. Featuring artwork by local designer Noren Strals, the album highlights, not their greatest hits, but 20 songs from over the years that never quite made the final cut. They’ve also been on a mini tour of their home state, North Carolina, where the East Carolina University students initially united in Greenville in the early 2000s. That’s where they first met electronic artist Dan Deacon, setting in motion their eventual move north in 2008.  

Fittingly, they’ll be wrapping that southern run in Baltimore, with an outdoor show along the Inner Harbor at Pier Six Pavilion this Thursday, May 28 at 7 p.m. Like the iconic Windjammer concert a decade earlier, this lineup—presented by Unregistered Nurse Booking—will include other local bands that were part of Future Islands’ early heyday, including Deacon and Ed Schrader’s Music Beat.

We recently caught up with the band, minus Herring, about the new album and their early days in Baltimore.   

Tell us the backstory of this album’s title, From a Hole in the Floor to a Fountain of Youth.
William Cashion: It’s a lyric from “Pinnochio.” That was one of the first songs we wrote once we made the move up to Baltimore. I’ve always just loved that line, and when we were bouncing around ideas for this upcoming release, that one felt like it fit. We like the poetry of it. 

How did you guys ultimately choose which tracks to include?
WC: We put together a big playlist of songs that had [only] been released on seven inches or were Japanese bonus tracks over the years. In recent years, we’ve done a couple VIP-only seven inches with songs that were only available on those. We have a lot of songs that are really rough recordings, but we wanted these to [have good fidelity and] be studio-quality recordings.

Do you have any favorites?
WC: For me, the first LP, side A and B, those are all really old songs, and I really remember that time. There was a period between 2009 and 2012, we were touring a ton, but even in between tours, we were writing a lot and finding time to get in the studio to record songs, and there’s a lot of that energy captured on those songs. I’ve always loved “Pinocchio,” but “The Ink Well” is a special song, it doesn’t really sound like anything else that we’ve done. I was also surprised at the strength of “Find Love.” That song is really catchy, and for whatever reason, it didn’t fit on On the Water (2011). I’m glad it’s getting out there. 

Mike Lowry: For me, “Find Love,” “Cotton Flower,” “The Ink Well.” Those were all songs that were before my time in the band and I  hadn’t heard them. We played a couple since I joined, like “The Fountain.” But it was exciting for me to hear those songs and how they were done and then try to figure out what I could bring to them. 

Gerrit Welmers: There’s a song that I’ve been digging called “Six Weeks,” which we wrote originally for The Far Field (2017). We played it a certain way leading up to the record, and I just didn’t really love it. So at the very last minute, I wrote all these extra parts. For whatever reason, it didn’t make the record. …[But] going back and relearning these songs for this tour, it’s a really strong song, and it’s fun to play.  

It must be surreal to sift back through all your work and reflect on this time. Twenty years is no small feat as a band. In what ways did Baltimore inform the band back then that still show up in your music or practice today? 
WC: This is making me think about this one time we were on tour with Dan Deacon [in Baltimore], in the early days. I was asking him about the performance, I can’t remember if it was gear-related or about where we should set up, and I remember he was just like, ‘You can do whatever you want to do…’

That was really profound to me at that time. That was the ethos of the Baltimore scene when we moved [here]. For every single band at that time, there was this whole mindset, like, there’s no rule book, we’re going to do it how we want to do it, it’s going to be weird, it’s going to be DIY. And that attitude really shifted how we approached performance, how we approached recording. Our first three albums were made with a portable studio and a computer in different houses. We mostly recorded our second album In Evening Air in a row home in Marble Hill with our good friend Chester.  

There was just an electricity in the air in Baltimore when we were first coming—around in 2006, 2007. It was really exciting, and we wanted to be a part of that scene. That’s what attracted us up to Baltimore, and then also rent was really cheap, so we could afford to tour all the time and be artists. Baltimore really allowed us to do that. We could play places in D.C. and Philly and New York way more often than we ever could in North Carolina. We played New York 22 times the first year that we lived [here]. I remember I used to work at an art store in town, and Sam and Garrett would pick me up when I got off work, we’d drive to New York, play a show, then drive back to Baltimore so I could be at work the next morning.

We did stuff like that. We didn’t even think twice about it. We just packed our bags and went. And everyone was doing it. Everyone was showing us that you can just do it. You can just book a tour and get out there and it can be a sustainable lifestyle, which we really loved. We loved the idea of putting off getting a real job as long as we could.  

To accompany this album, you’re doing a mini tour of North Carolina. Why did you decide to wrap the show in Baltimore? Why Pier Six?
WC: We talked about a million ideas of what the show could be and Pier Six is where we landed. Logistically, it just made the most sense. We really had a good time when we played there for Windjammer a couple years back. And it’s beautiful, right there on the water. 

ML: It definitely feels like a homecoming of sorts. We’re all really leaning into that idea. We’re all kind of spread out all over the place now, but it’s still a place we love and really want to show our appreciation for.  

GW: It’s also a homecoming [show], because Sam, William, Dan, Ed, and Devlin [Rice of Ed Schraeder’s Music Beat]—we all used to live together in Baltimore, which is probably the reason that we were able to tour so much, because we fit so many people into one house and had such small rents. We were touring all at the same time, but we were able to leave and know people would still be there to make sure the cats were fed or whatever. I’m excited to get back. It’s been too long.  

You were recently home rehearsing at Wright Way Studios. Are you also working on new music?
WC: We recorded our last two albums at Wright Way Studios, and over the years, that’s been our spot for when we need to rehearse. Because we don’t have a practice space in Baltimore anymore, that’s become our Baltimore home for the band—our hub.

WC: We have been writing a ton of new material. We have more than an album’s worth of new tunes, and we’re just trying to figure out where and when we’re going to record it. We’re thinking hopefully later this year. We’re really excited about it. 

The Abdeldayem brothers are in a bit of a daze. It’s mid-March, and the usually high-energy Osama and slightly more subdued Ayman are slumped down in the second-floor break room of their East Baltimore warehouse, next to an overflowing stack of Thrasher magazines.

They’re a few weeks into daily fasts for the month of Ramadan, which at least partially explains the fatigue. But also, they just wrapped a meeting about hiring more staff, are about to head out to shoot a social-media video, and have hundreds and hundreds of cardboard boxes downstairs, filled with thousands and thousands of clothes and accessories waiting to be sorted, packed, and shipped during their next highly anticipated drop for Carpet Company.

“It’s been like, bro, what month are we in?” says Osama, leaning back in an antique armchair, wearing a tie-dye button-up that the brothers co-designed.

“It’s a lot,” agrees Ayman, himself in a bedazzled Spitfire sweatshirt they also dreamed up together. “We were just talking this morning about how to not burn out.”

Yet all of that is not even what’s been occupying most of their time. A few miles west, the up-and-coming streetwear designers have been neck deep in finishing the build-out of their first brick-and-mortar store. Unsurprisingly, there have been delays, dealing with construction and City Hall. But if all goes well with next week’s inspections, they’ll be full blast to opening in early April, at this point less than one month away.

You probably already know the spot—that old bank on the corner of North Avenue and St. Paul Street, in Station North. Outside, once boarded up, covered in graffiti and rust, the circa-1929 Beaux Arts building has been restored to its former glory, a glimpse into the bustling past on one of the city’s historic main drags.

Inside, though, you can see the future, where these two Maryland skaters are about to make their debut as the biggest fashion brand to ever come out of Baltimore.

Through a wall of windows, natural light pours into the white-washed showroom, bouncing between its glossy floor and abundance of chrome, from the sleek shoe racks to the shiny centerpiece pyramid, a nod to their Egyptian heritage. There are big splashes of color, too, like the dozen skateboard decks hanging like modern art, and the old vault transformed into a David Lynchian dressing room, painted cherry red and topped with a DJ booth to hype the inevitable crowd.

Carpet already has its fans. When they dropped their first sneak peek of the shop on Instagram, some 15,000 likes rolled in within 24 hours. “Baltimore’s Louvre,” “eighth wonder of the world,” “unmatched duo,” “let’s GO,” wrote their legions of followers, more than 150,000 on that platform alone.

All that love translates into a deeply loyal clientele. Their collections sell out online in minutes—hoodies, tees, cargo pants, sneakers, going viral for their bold, chic, tongue-in-cheek vibe—purchased by a motley crew of in-the-know cool kids from around the world who wait with bated breath for the brand’s next thing. But the permanence of an IRL store brings up all kinds of new questions, which are enough to rack the brothers’ nerves. Like how many products to stock? Or how many customers will come? And will they like it? Will Baltimore?

“I don’t know, I hope so,” says Ayman with a nervous laugh, locking eyes with Osama.

All signs point to yes.

You could say Carpet Company began by accident. Born in Alabama, Osama and Ayman are the youngest of five sons, all first-generation American. Their Egyptian parents—their dad, a physicist, their mom, an accountant—moved to the Mid-Atlantic when they were in middle school, settling in Prince George’s County, halfway between Baltimore and Washington, D.C.

At first, it wasn’t easy. Landing here right after 9/11, the brothers were bullied for being Muslim. But luckily, they had one hobby that kept them a united front, and consumed every minute of their free time.

“As soon as school let out until we could no longer see our feet at night, it was skateboarding,” says Osama, now 35.

They’d gotten hooked down south, after getting their hands on a classic skate video. Full of city-street shredding and punk-rock music, a hand-me-down tape of Toy Machine’s now-iconic 1996 Welcome to Hell documentary became their first muse. They watched that raw footage over and over, idolizing pros like Brian Anderson. Before long, they convinced their parents to buy them boards from Kmart. Which is how they finally made friends in Maryland, and first paid attention to what people wear.

“It was rare to find another skater in P.G. County, so literally anybody you’d see in a skate shoe, you’d follow them, especially if that shoe was damaged, because that told you they actually skate, and if they did, you could talk for hours,” says Osama. “Shoes were how you connected. They became very empowering for me. They say so much about who you are.”

Skateboarding did, too. At the core, it’s always been more than a sport—a bona fide art form, and means of self-expression. How you approach a trick, how you stick a landing, it’s all about showing off your own individual style. There are no hard rules. Creativity is often lauded over technical skill. And mistakes, not to mention injuries, are inevitable, only pushing you harder. And so it’s no surprise that this scrappy subculture—and its style—would eventually become the definition of cool.

These days, skatewear is everywhere, as likely to be spotted in the everyday outfits of Gen Z as on the runway-ready pages of Vogue. Remember Supreme, the once upstart skate shop with its catchy logo and cult following? It’s now worth $1 billion. And luxury brands want in, too, with Louis Vuitton picking skaters—Virgil Abloh and Pharrell Williams—for its past two creative directors. Last year, a giant skate bowl was erected in the heart of Paris Fashion Week.

“Skateboarding and fashion is a love story for the ages,” wrote GQ at the time. “Fashion’s desire for authenticity, for gritty realness and youthful abandon, has made skateboarding a wellspring of inspiration.”

And throughout the early 2000s, Ayman and Osama witnessed that evolution in their own way. Early on, the brothers wore clothes that felt comfortable to skate in. But at some point, their underground scene collided with the mainstream. Ayman remembers the moment distinctly. In 2006, rapper Lupe Fiasco dropped his hit single, “Kick Push.” “By high school,” he says, “skaters were cool.”

“It was rare to find skaters in P.G. County, so anybody you’d see in a skate shoe, you’d follow them, especially if that shoe was damaged, because that told you they actually skate,” says Osama. “Shoes were how you connected.”

All the while, the brothers’ footwear interest had turned into an outright obsession. At home, they were now collectors, aka “hypebeasts,” pulling every penny to buy not just Vans, but also Nikes and New Balances, sometimes just to flip them at a profit on Facebook so they could cop something better. And that sensibility spread throughout the rest of their closets, and got noticed in their classrooms, too.

For teenagers in the early aughts in their culturally diverse suburb of P.G. County, clothes were the ultimate status symbol. Osama remembers classmates getting kudos for wearing the hot new thing, as well as called out for rocking knockoffs. It was cutthroat, he says. Yet it only deepened their intrigue.

“We were exposed to so many different people, and so many different styles, and we took notes,” says Ayman, now 33, calling those early years in P.G. County the foundation of Carpet’s DNA.

You can see it in their collections today: graphic tees, trucker hats, ball-and-chain jewelry—all so ’90s and Y2K. But back then, starting a fashion brand was not part of the plan.

When not out skateboarding or shopping, Osama and Ayman were inside, buckling down on homework. Their dad was a taskmaster when it came to the kids’ education, enrolling Osama in college classes at 14. He happened to not be a huge fan of their after-school activities, either. In fact, any time their ragtag skater pals came to the house, the old man would make them complete math problems, too.

A bit grudgingly, the brothers attended University of Maryland. Ayman was an I.T. major before dropping out for a job at NASA. Osama graduated with a degree in math, also becoming an engineer. It still feels like a detour, he says, “but it’s also part of why we are where we are today.”

It’s January and Osama and Ayman are walking around the future Carpet store. Drywall dust coats the floor, and brown paper covers the windows, keeping passersby from peeking in. Plenty of finishing touches remain, but they’re meticulously weighing every detail, always making their final decisions together.

“We’re basically the same person,” says Ayman, wearing wide-leg jeans and a Bad Brains T-shirt. “We always had the same everything—same clothes, same style, same friends.”

There are also clear-yet-complementary differences. For instance, Ayman prefers garments that are more crisp, clean, refined. “Bougie,” declares Osama, decked out in camo and Carhartt-style carpenter pants. “Whereas I don’t care if things get dirty. . . . But every single article of clothing is a conversation we have for hours. And while we’ve each got our own ideas, finding that overlap is what makes a good piece.”

Even together, that’s no small feat. For each collection, they start with roughly 1,000 custom designs, sometimes 20 versions of a single shirt. They deliberate over sizes, shapes, colors, materials. There are mood boards and mock ups, with their East Baltimore headquarters regularly stuffed to the gills with samples, temporarily turning their indoor skate ramp into a three-story closet. It takes them about six months to narrow down the looks. Changes are made until the very last minute.

“It’s a lot of work and a slow process—you’re experimenting with so much, playing with so many things, seeing what feels right,” says Osama. “We’re both very particular. Every single piece has to meet so many criteria.”

At the end of the day, the brothers are their own best barometer, leaning into bright colors, cartoon characters, hints of Arabic, and a host of inside jokes—their go-to slogan being “Carpet Sucks”—creating something both defiantly hip and highly approachable.

“We design for us,” says Ayman, and they’ve been trusting that instinct since their first collection—Season One.

In 2015, Carpet was born out of a friend’s grandma’s basement. After slinging skateboards for another brand, they decided to try their own thing. The original dream was making jeans. But shirts were faster, cheaper, easier, so they bought a screen-printing machine off Craigslist and taught themselves how to use it on YouTube. Their first run was 10 tees, just for their fellow skaters. Then they started printing boards, too, which got picked up by local skate shops. Within a year, their DIY looks were going viral. As for the name, it just sounded cool.

“One thing just led to another,” says Ayman. “You learn. You get better. You try new things.”

“Some of the most beautiful pieces we made came from figuring out how to fix something,” says Osama, no formal training necessary. “We found people weren’t really interested in perfection. They wanted something unexpected.”

To level up, they clearly needed more space. In 2019, they moved to Greenmount West and slowly but surely grew by word-of-mouth, luring in their favorite musicians and pro skaters for collaborations. Then in 2021, Nike came calling. It was a project that would change everything. With this iconic sneaker company, Carpet created a powdery blue pair of high-tops, offering an early glimpse into their clever imaginations. Beneath the leather were hidden details, only to be revealed through the literal wear and tear of skateboarding.

With that success, Osama and Ayman quit their jobs and bought the East Baltimore warehouse, their “HQ”—a crumbling laundromat topped with their logo, a C-shaped star. Projects with Vans soon followed, and the Baltimore Orioles, and, of course, local hardcore band Turnstile, with frontman Brendan Yates being a buddy from those College Park skating days.

Last summer, they dropped a collection together at the Good Neighbor Design Garage in Hampden, with fans flowing down Falls Road all day.

“You’re always hungry, always pushing . . . not settling for the same ideas,” said bassist Franz Lyons to the brothers in an interview with indie magazine Living Proof. He wore nearly all Carpet to accept the band’s Grammys earlier this year.

Now, they’re in midst of rolling out their 21st season. Season 22 is already finished, and they’re onto 23. By the end, each season will include more than 100 designs, which will turn into some 20,000 individual pieces, and the brothers are ramping up to release even more.

“Their attitude is if you build it, they will come.”

Beyond the web, they’re stocked worldwide in 70-plus shops, from Los Angeles to London to Hong Kong, including 13 Supreme stores. Screen-printed by hand in Baltimore, the skateboards still come in small batches. It’s a labor-intensive undertaking, and their admitted loss leader, but core to the Carpet identity. For the rest of the lineup—finally including jeans, as well as jackets, bags, boxers, and anything-but-ordinary objects, like branded ashtrays, Nalgenes, Frisbees, dog bowls, and one fez- wearing nutcracker—Ayman and Osama work around the clock with factories overseas.

“Which sucks,” says Osama, thinking about those international calls with China, Pakistan, Turkey, Morocco, Egypt. “Sometimes you’re talking at two or three in the morning, and they’re asking what color you want a stitch to be, and I’m like, bro, at this point, I don’t care.” He pauses, flashes a wicked grin, then quickly adds, “. . .but it has to be yellow.”

If skating gave them creativity, their business skills might be thanks to their parents. Analyzing, multi-tasking, troubleshooting—that could be attributed to those short lived white-collar jobs, and therefore, their dad. (Seeing the hard work, he’s since come around to their unconventional career path.) Their street smarts and ability to stretch a dollar, though, comes from their mom.

“She’s a hustler,” says Ayman. “You can’t waste money—if you buy something, it has to keep its value.” Which was true when the brothers were teens trying to buy shoes.

“She’s like, ‘Are you going to just skate them and destroy them?’” he says, mimicking her Egyptian accent. “And we’re like, ‘No, and we think they’re going to go up in price.’ And she’s like, ‘Hmm, okay. I’ll allow it then.’”

To this day, every Friday night, during family supper, they seek her council for every big move, making her the unofficial consigliere of Carpet. Her no is their no, too. And she must be onto something, given the brand’s strategy is so savvy. They’re masters at building demand, whether that’s online—i.e. their impromptu announcements made with high production value, subversive humor, and the occasional cameo from a local dirt biker or Baltimore Club beat—or in their actual collections, which are limited-edition, meaning most items will never be seen again.

Meanwhile, their prices stay low, giving the next-generation skater kid a shot at snagging something. Sure, their silver necklaces and pony-hair coats are a bit higher, as is their first attempt at furniture—a candy-colored fiberglass stool that looks like a stackable baby toy meets a MoMA sculpture—but most items are less than a hundred bucks. And it should all be gone within an hour.

“Sure, we could sell more,” says Osama. “But making money has never been the goal.”

A few years back, as Carpet started taking off, Osama and Ayman got to plotting their next move. At the time, they wanted to build a skatepark. Then that North Avenue bank went up for sale, and the brothers jumped at the opportunity. Other locations might’ve been fancier, with more foot traffic, but to them, Station North was the sweet spot—a real crossroads of Baltimore. Full of grit and gumption. An underdog, just like them.

“I remember riding through the city years ago with friends like, bro, if we had any money, this building would be ours,” says Osama. “We love this street,” says Ayman.

And it’s good timing. The slow-burning arts district is experiencing a new burst of energy, with the forthcoming redevelopment of the North Avenue Market, recently opened restaurants like Mama Koko’s, and the Inviting Light installations, curated by artist Derrick Adams. The Abdeldayems want Carpet to be a draw for the neighborhood, too, if not the entire city.

For that, the 10,000-square-foot flagship will be more than just retail. In addition to their own clothes, a curated inventory will feature other sought-after brands, including one exciting upcoming shoe collab. And they’re once again teaming up with Good Neighbor, opening an outpost of the design-forward coffee shop in the back, where community can linger over South Asian paratha flatbreads and coffee cups embossed with a metallic Carpet logo. Upstairs, they’ll also eventually open an art gallery, where it’s easy to envision packed openings featuring a who’s who from Baltimore and beyond.

“A lot of people follow in other people’s footsteps, but they’re marching to their own beat, and staying true to Baltimore,” says friend and legendary skate photographer Atiba Jefferson.

“For someone at their level to lay their mark on North Avenue, I think it’s going to be a tipping point,” says Shawn Chopra, owner of Good Neighbor, whose wife is also Egyptian-American and introduced the creatives. “It shows how much they’re committed to this city, and how much their attitude is just, ‘If you build it, they will come.’”

For now, though, Osama and Ayman are staying humble—and despite their bleary eyes, not slowing down. They’re stocking the store, teasing their next drop, and getting their tightknit team ready to send it. Until just over a year ago, they were a two-man operation. Now, they have 18 people on payroll, not to mention all the homies who lend a hand.

“We tell everybody, ‘Yo, you’re gonna work hard, you’re not gonna get paid a lot, but this is a cool thing. If we grow, you grow,’” says Ayman.

They still don’t pay themselves, putting everything they earn back into Carpet, and it’s a point of pride to do it all on their own dime. They want to grow just big enough to hire their own in-house designers. And one day, if all goes well, they might even open another store somewhere—maybe Egypt.

“It’s awesome, and it’s scary, getting bigger and bigger—like man, does this last forever?” says Ayman. “The goal is to just keep building. . . . As far as the future, we’ll see what happens.”

This article first appeared in our May 2026 issue. If you connected with it, consider becoming a print subscriber. 

Every three years, the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery hosts the Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition, considered one of the most prestigious of its kind in the United States.

Named after longtime docent Virginia Outwin Boochever, whose endowment funds the event, the competition reviews thousands of entries from both emerging and established artists, with finalists across multiple disciplines ultimately presenting a celebration of modern American portraiture—not to mention a visual representation of this country today.

This is the competition that helped launch the career of then-Baltimore-based painter Amy Sherald, who won first place in 2016. She would go on to create the official portrait of former First Lady Michelle Obama—now on view in her American Sublime exhibition at the Baltimore Museum of Art through April 5, which was originally slated to be held at this very location.

Now, Baltimore is once again making its mark on the Outwin. Out of this year’s 34 finalists, three local artists are represented in the competition’s culminating exhibition, The Outwin 2025: American Portraiture Today, now on view through August 30 in Washington, D.C., plus one area teen has taken home a youth prize.

Learn a bit more about their talents, below, then hop on a quick train to the nation’s capital to experience their pieces for yourself.

J.M. Giordano
Local photojournalist J.M. Giordano was selected as an Outwin finalist for his 2023 portrait titled “Yvonne Freeman on Her Ancestral Ground.” Captured through a fading window frame, this powerful photograph was shot on assignment for Baltimore magazine, accompanying a story on the historic African-American “Hill” community on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.

A former City Paper staffer, Giordano’s work—which ranges from city streetscapes and slice-of-life snapshots to documentary-style civic reporting—has been featured in the likes of NPR, The Guardian, The Washington Post, and Rolling Stone. He has also published multiple books, such as We Used to Live At Night and Trumpland. His latest exhibition, The Secret City: New Works in Color Film, is currently on display at The Peale.

LaToya Hobbs
Born and raised in Little Rock, Arkansas, Hobbs is an artist and Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) educator who has been building her name on both the local and national arts scenes. Winner of the 2020 Janet and Walter Sondheim Artscape Prize, her work has been exhibited from City Hall is held in the private collections of the Baltimore Museum of Art.

She’s known for her large-scale paintings and prints of Black women, incorporating woodcut, collage, and rich patterns that make her subjects come to life on the canvas. Hobbs sees portraiture as a powerful tool of representation. Her Outwin selection is the sepia-hued “Erin and Anyah with Hydrangeas,” capturing the potent abundance of youth like a summer evening.

Katie O’Keefe
Not your standard portrait, “Entwined Repose” is a three-dimensional self-depiction of the artist herself in search of comfort. In shades of red and pink, the MICA fiber-arts graduate and Baker Artist Portfolios semifinalist tosses and turns in an internal struggle with the notion of rest in the face of a chronic Lyme disease diagnosis.

Created with both machine and hand embroidery on fabric in 2022, this “mending” also serves as a metaphor, with O’Keefe seeing her art as a form of healing. A New York native, her contemporary work has been exhibited at a variety of local spaces like School 33, Gallery CA, and the Baltimore Jewelry Center.

Matilda Myers
In addition to the main event, the top prize of the Outwin Teen Portrait Competition, for teen artists in the 13 to 15 age group, was awarded to “Tilly” Myers—a junior at George Washington Carver Center for Arts and Technology, who happens to be the daughter of Baltimore contributing photographer Christopher Myers.

In her photograph, “Rest”—on view in a video presentation on the NPG’s second floor—a ballerina stretches in the shadows beside a pickaxe, juxtaposing the masculine and feminine, as well as shadows and light. “Tilly brings a great narrative to all her photographic work, especially her portraits,” said Carver instructor Sherry Insley, in a statement.

Unless you’ve been living under the proverbial rock lately (or not reading this magazine), you’ve probably heard that hardcore music is the biggest genre in Baltimore right now. And thanks to this city, it might be the most up-and-coming genre across the country, too.  

Justice Tripp has a lot to do with that. The Essex native came to punk rock as a little kid, after his brother stole a car and gifted him the CDs left inside. Within a few years, he got his first guitar as a gift from his biker uncle, formed his first band around the age of 10, and by his young teens, was attending hardcore shows at the likes of the rough-and-tumble Sidebar. With his own youthful fervor, it didn’t take long for him to make his mark on this mosh-pitting scene.  

Inspired by genre pioneers like D.C.’s Bad Brains, he started experimenting with that hard-driving, Mid-Atlantic-bred sound, adding catchy rhythms and groovy melodies to create his own signature style. His first band, the seminal Trapped Under Ice, is a cult-followed stalwart that still plays the occasional show, while his follow-up, the kaleidoscopic Angel Du$t, has gained its own loyal following. (Over the years, he was also an early mentor for future members of Turnstile, who played in both of Tripp’s groups before becoming arguably the biggest hardcore band in the world).  

Whether you’re a new fan or a longtime follower, the sixth Angel Du$t record, Cold 2 the Touch, shows off the best of Baltimore hardcore—its unbridled energy, its to-the-bone authenticity, its refusal to be boxed in. As ever, it’s bursting with Tripp’s one-of-a-kind vision. Play it loud, but more importantly, make sure to see it live. If you can find tickets, that is. (Their Soundstage release party on Feb. 26 sold out quickly.) 

Below, we chat with Tripp about the new album, growing up in Baltimore, and hardcore music as an A.I. antidote.

Tell me about your first hardcore show.
It was at The Sidebar. I was 13 years old. It was all East Coast bands—Hatebreed, Death Threat, and Out To Win. I was like, oh, this is what I want to do with my life. I’m all in.   

What hooked you? 
I was a kid with undiagnosed ADHD and a lot of energy. And every way I let that out was considered quote-unquote “bad.” It was like, sit down, shut up, you’re being too much. And then I go to a hardcore show, and I’m allowed to jump on people and kick around the room and sing along and hang with the band. I thought these were the coolest people on earth. And they were nice to me when nobody was nice to me—you know?

From the outside, hardcore can seem intimidating. But folks on the inside say it’s actually deeply open-armed. 
I’m not going to say it’s perfect, and it’s changed over the years, but the bottom line is acceptance. There’s a zero-tolerance policy for acting up or views that don’t welcome people…In our community, nobody cares if you’re autistic, queer, whatever race or religion. It’s all celebrated. Your value is in being uniquely you.  

How do you define hardcore?
It’s an ideology and a sonic territory. The origins of hardcore come from punk rock, which was rock and roll music played dirty, with an attitude, and people physically reacted to that. But how do we take that to another level? How do we make people jump off the stage? How do we influence people’s mentality? How do we change the world? It’s about being your most authentic self, and creating an energy that makes people want to move.

“In our community, nobody cares if you’re autistic, queer, whatever race or religion. It’s all celebrated. Your value is in being uniquely you.”

There’s a lot of discussion about why hardcore is so relevant right now. In these algorithmic times, when we’re so desperate for genuine human connection, it seems that might have something to do with the community’s ethos of authenticity.
It is so mandatory to what we do. You can’t come to hardcore and do a character. That’s why Turnstile’s Never Enough [which just won a Grammy for Best Rock Album] was everybody’s record of the year. I’ve known that band a long time and I’ve never seen something so authentically them. And it’s why people resonate with Trapped Under Ice’s Big Kiss Goodnight. Because not one thing was phoned in. And what will people love about Cold 2 the Touch? It’s 100 percent me…I think that’s something we’re all looking for as our society and government funnels money into A.I. The whole world is running from authenticity, and we have a place where it’s just demanded.

It’s interesting you bring up A.I., because given how rooted hardcore is in authenticity and the live show, it feels like it might be the one form of music that’s ultimately A.I.-proof.
I feel like A.I. is gonna find a way to take everything authentic off the planet…But on the sinking Titanic, the last music you hear might be a hardcore band.  

“A.I. is gonna find a way to take everything authentic off the planet, but on the sinking Titanic, the last music you hear might be a hardcore band.” 

How do you think about the live show when writing an album?
It’s everything. When we were doing Trapped Under Ice, there was a lot of movement at the shows, but it was more violent than I had ever anticipated. And with this music, there is an inherent element of what appears to be violence. But there can come a point when it’s unwanted or goes beyond expression and becomes more of a selfish desire to let your anger out in a way that isn’t positive or welcome…With Angel Du$t, we were thinking, how do we incite movement in a way that contributes to the group setting rather than takes away from it? Not to say that Angel Du$t was the first band to do so, but I do think we were a major tool in creating the hardcore environment we see today, which is less dangerous and more inclusive. 

How did you foster that evolution? 
Conversations with the crowd usually don’t go well. You can’t tell people what to do at a hardcore show, nobody likes that. But you can through your art, through the way you communicate with the world….I often refer to the Bad Brains show at CBGB in 1982—it’s everybody’s favorite live video. When I think about what a show should look like, that’s it. But what were they doing sonically that made people behave this way? What was their message? What were the lyrics? Then it becomes a point of sitting down with the team and just kind of trying new things and asking, what does that make me want to do?

Most of the time, you are writing to make the best song. Hardcore might be the only genre where you exclusively say, alright, what are people going to do to this live? It’s defined by what is going to create movement, and then afterwards, I can sprinkle in ear candy that makes you want to listen to it over and over.  

Thinking of that CBGB crowd, how would you describe Baltimore audiences?
I remember a time when I wanted to know why I couldn’t create such diverse and dynamic audiences. Like, how do we introduce more types of people into this world? This was right around the time that the Charm City Art Space closed. I hung it up and moved to Atlanta. But then Che [Figueroa of Flatspot Records] was one of the first dudes to pop up. And then Paris Roberts [of the band No Idols] started booking stuff.

When I came back to Baltimore, it was a whole different scene. To me, the right people stepped up and made it what I’d always dreamed of. I guess my takeaway was that I couldn’t be the one, and sometimes it’s about creating space for somebody else. Baltimore is like Bad Brains at CBGB in 1982—but on steroids. It’s just the coolest thing to see. 

“Baltimore is like Bad Brains at CBGB in 1982—but on steroids. It’s just the coolest thing to see.” 

What makes sets Baltimore hardcore apart?
Baltimore hardcore is really defined by high-level creativity in context of hardcore. We got our own way about it…The earliest hardcore bands were defined by pushing the envelope, pushing the boundaries of what punk rock music could be. I think that’s still mandatory if you’re making hardcore music. And a lot of bands lose sight of that. We love the traditions, but to me, hardcore is about challenging the norm.

You did that big time in your transition from Trapped Under Ice to Angel Du$t, which has been an even broader sound, especially on this new record.
It was just liberating. We’d been touring and making music for a long time, and we all had the desire to explore. It was a way to make a big statement, as far as being willing to try something new and learn new tools and just experiment. … I think part of what defines Angel Du$t is trying new things. And Cold 2 The Touch is really an all-encompassing moment creatively for me, where I get to explore everything I’ve learned making aggressive music over the years. 

There’ve been various iterations of this band over the years, with your bandmates now residing in other cities. How does Baltimore still show up in this music?
I have been very fortunate to play a role in this community for a very long time, and I’ve been very fortunate to have a team around me that helped me to build something special here. And people that are far more impressive than me have taken it and ran with it and done so much with it. I think anything I touch is going to be Baltimore hardcore music. And my band has all spent a lot of time here. The team flies out regularly and stays with me and we’ll go to a show or two. I think we all feel the same, that Baltimore is home for Angel Du$t. When we play here, it feels like the hometown show for everybody…I’ve always felt like an artist first, part of a like-minded team, and a frontman afterwards. When we started the band, I wasn’t even support to sing. It’s shared vision, a collective output. The lineup has changed, but it’s always been the same team. a lot of the guys that play with Angel Du$t now have been a part of Angel Du$t all along.

What’s it like for you to see this moment—for Baltimore, for hardcore?
I’ve always believed in hardcore. Some people want to keep it their little secret, and they’re offended when people want to share it with the world. But it’s a powerful tool for young people. If it saved my life, why shouldn’t it save everybody who wants it?  

On that note, most shows are all-ages, which is a core tenant of hardcore.
It’s so important. It’s life changing. It absolutely was for me and everybody around me. I didn’t really have the best male figures in my life. All my best friends to this day come from the hardcore community, and I know them well enough to say how much of a piece of shit we were all destined to become if it wasn’t for getting into some little room and beating the shit out of each other and having people around us set boundaries and teach us lessons. I don’t know where we would be without the Charm City Art Space—a space where young kids could book shows and we had the right people looking out for us. Shout out, Mike Riley, in particular. So much of today’s hardcore scene is inspired by that era and what came out of that place. I carry that with me in everything I do.  

Most Marylanders woke up this past Monday with a deep sigh of relief. In late January, a winter storm had whisked into the region, bringing snow and sleet, then a serious cold spell, suspending residents in an unusual tundra for the better part of the past two weeks. Just now, the ice is beginning to melt, and as the mercury inches back into the 40s, the common sentiment—seemingly everywhere—is “finally!”

Not everyone is celebrating, though. On the Eastern Shore, it’s a bittersweet moment for a few hardcore locals who spent most waking hours of the past 14 days outside, taking advantage of a rare phenomenon: a frozen solid Chesapeake Bay.

“There’s going to be a grieving period,” says Talbot County native Michael Keene, sitting on a wide but waning patch of ice in Claiborne, where he’s been serving as a sort of unofficial mayor since the blizzard rolled in that first weekend.

In the days immediately after the storm, once the accumulation settled and the roads started being cleared, the 61-year-old looked at the weather again. From his experience—as a longtime sailor, career boatbuilder, and log-canoe racer—it takes five nights of frigid temperatures to freeze the local shorelines. And this particular storm, with its northwest winds and lingering cold front, would surely pack his go-to cove in fast and tight. To confirm that hunch, he went down there and dug some holes into the ice.

“At four and a half inches thick, it was game on,” says Keene, who the next morning loaded up his small wooden boat and set out to quite literally skate across what he and his group of fellow adventure-seeking sailors call “hard water.” From here on out, for as long as he could, he’d be at that cove in Claiborne, experiencing the sheer thrill of iceboating.

In this tiny hamlet 20 minutes outside of Easton, old thick piers emerge from the shallows, telling of its early 20th-century heyday. Claiborne was then a bustling hub, its wide harbor filled with steamboats ferrying passengers back and forth from the western shore. After the Bay Bridge was built and automobiles became king, the community fell into a sort of slumber—mostly known by locals for its boat landing and sandy beach.

Without a doubt, the past few weeks have been the busiest it’s been in ages. Each day, the crowd grew larger, its usually sparse waterfront parking lot at times spilling out onto the street. After all, winters like this don’t happen every year. And it’d been decades, the old-timers say, since the ice has been this good.

“It’s no big science,” says Keene, surveying the simple lines of his fragile-looking iceboat. At 12 feet long, these miniature vessels are essentially sleds, their lightweight hulls fit with a lone sail and three skating blades, the one in the front attached to a tiller for steering. Bundled up in ski gear—often practical, sometimes fashionable—sailors lay down inside, and with a quick push, the canvas catches the wind, sending them soaring off on the ice like swallows, swooping in around the landscape’s curves, shooting out toward the jagged edges near open water.

The smoother the ice, the faster the sailing, and this year, the frozen water had an especially well-polished texture. With little friction, the boats simply glide across the surface, only needing the slightest breeze for speed. They move three and a half times faster than the wind, easily reaching 30, 40, 50 miles per hour.

“You get these bursts of excitement,” says Pete Lesher, historian at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in nearby St. Michaels, who sailed several days this season, including a few runs with his son. “In part because you can’t be out here that long—it’s bitter cold and the wind chill goes right through you. You go out and back, you scream around a few times, and then you say, ‘Okay, who’s next? I’ve got to go warm up.’”

Popularized along the Hudson Valley and Great Lakes, iceboating is at least a century-old tradition on the shores of the Chesapeake. “I have never known such ice as there is now … and we are sailing everywhere,” wrote one Talbot County boatbuilder in 1917. Other accounts date back more than a decade before that, with the first vessels likely brought down from the north.

Early on, the boats were homebuilt, but over time, they were replaced with a standard “DN class” model, named for The Detroit News—sponsor of ice boating’s North American World Championships.

In the winter of ’77, snowfall in Michigan sent the competition’s organizers in search of a new location. In a twist of fate, they landed on the Miles River, just around the bend from the Claiborne cove. That February, Maryland was in the midst of a historic freeze, lasting some 58 nights in a row. This would the first and only time the contest would ever take place south of the Mason-Dixon.

“They called it a perfect day. The wind‐chill factor was minus 15 degrees. Small‐craft warnings were posted. … On downwind tacks the [iceboats] were reaching speeds of 80 miles an hour,” wrote The New York Times. “Hardwater sailors are a closely‐knit fraternity. They spend winter weekends in search of good ice.”

Indeed that year, more than 50 iceboaters from around the world descended upon the Chesapeake, inspiring locals like beloved Carpenter Street Saloon owners John and Diana Mautz to build or find their own boats to race. Theirs would eventually make its way into Keene’s possession. He points out the original mahogany trim and his later repairs, tethering him to the region’s long lineage of maritime craftsmanship.

“My niece recently asked me a good question, though—is it truly a boat?” says Keene with a smile, having learned the hard way that the answer is “sort of.” He’s fallen through the ice before. And luckily, the vessel did float, bobbing just enough to keep his upper body dry until he could be rescued from those hypothermic waters.

Unsurprisingly, this fast-flying sport does come with its fair share of dangers. First and foremost, there’s falling in, and over the years, there have been close calls in deeper waters. Sailors also watch out for heavy gusts that can topple the boats and try their hardest to avoid splintering collisions. Precautions are implemented, such as sailing in shallow depths, on stable ice shelves, and never going out there alone. Flags are also planted to show the course’s guardrails. Most practiced participants wear helmets.

Jim Richardson is a veteran iceboater who took up the pastime in the early ’80s, not long after he moved to Claiborne—his home above the town’s old general store now serving as the de facto headquarters for homecooked meals between races. This year, he ran aground about a week in, coming into the cove a little too hot on a blustery day, breaking some bones in the process.

“Sometimes you’re like a leaf,” says the 78-year-old from the warmth of his living room, his right foot now strapped into an orthopedic boot. “I like the speed, and being on the edge a bit. I’m not sure iceboating is for anyone who always wants to be in control. And of course, the other day, I found out exactly what it means to not be.”

“No harm was done to the boat, at least,” says Keene, whose skillset made him the fleet’s go-to mechanic, addressing all the wear and tear that accumulated over two weeks of daily sailing. “Although another sailor took it out and wrecked it yesterday.”

He and Richardson are old friends, and together, they became ringleaders of the recent rip-roaring activities. That first weekend, they threw a party on the frozen cove, transforming its rock-hard shelf into a communal living room, equipped with benches, blankets, a floral carpet, and a wood-burning fire in a 50-gallon drum while a half-dozen ice boats crisscrossed against a blazing sunset.

After that, it didn’t take long for word to get out. More and more cars started flocking to Claiborne—from Annapolis, from Baltimore, even as far as Deep Creek and Washington, D.C. And the cove filled in with not only iceboaters but ice-skaters, ice-hockey players, one rogue bicycle, and countless wide-eyed spectators, some days as many as 100 people, all convening to bear witness to this fleeting spectacle.

And here’s the thing about iceboating: once you see it, you want to do it, and share it, too. The two men took a flurry of first-timers out for inaugural rides, including reporters from the local and national news. They also lent their boats to experienced sailors brave enough to navigate the cove on their own. A few even got so hooked, they went home and bought used vessels on the internet, willing to wait however long it might be until the next deep freeze.

“This doesn’t happen very often—maybe next year, who knows, or maybe not for another 50,” says Richardson. “These weeks have been very special.”

In truth, just standing on the frozen Chesapeake is a singular feeling. At first, for the uninitiated, there’s some fear, as if it all might melt beneath your feet in a moment’s notice. But before long, that trepidation shifts into a sense wonder, seeing the ice’s pluming patterns up close, its old cracks healing over, the new ripples forming from the slowly shifting tide.

This winter in Claiborne, even the most warm-blooded and risk-averse eventually stepped out onto that frozen water, with Keene and his welcoming crew encouraging a newfound appreciation for the cold.

“I’ve been thinking about what the ice does to us,” he says, recalling ice-skating with his family on Peachblossom Creek outside of Easton as one of his fondest childhood memories. “It’s this magical way to connect with nature. And to one another.”

On Monday afternoon, his was the only boat left on the Claiborne ice, soon to be named Diana-mite after its previous owner—who was, by all measures, a pistol. Keene whipped around the cove a few more times that morning, but now, the wind had dissipated, with barely a cloud on the horizon. By tomorrow, the temperatures would be well above freezing again, bringing with it that inevitable thaw.

A little later, Lesher appeared on the shoreline in a suit and tie, hoping to get a final glimpse of the frozen cove on his lunch break.

“So this is it—it’s over?” he called out to Keene, carefully traversing the metal ladder laid down over slushy puddles to reach the dwindling ice sheet.

“We’re sitting here ’til the wind comes up again,” the fellow sailor yelled back, a glimmer of melancholy in his voice, knowing there’d be nothing but calm air and warm days ahead.

That night, Keene would stay out there until just before sunset, ultimately breaking down his boat, pulling up the flags, and heading home. He’ll be back to Claiborne in no time, teaching yoga classes at the local village hall and hunting for arrowheads with his partner along this cove. Before spring arrives, he’ll bring out his stand-up paddleboard, and come summer, he’ll swim in the open water, where not that long ago, he was nearly flying.

Still, he’ll miss all the rush and ruckus.

“I also like the solitude,” says Keene. “The other morning, I texted my friend, Jack, and just said, ‘8:30?’ The two of us got here. We had the ice to ourselves. Perfect conditions. Good wind. Then I came out Friday, laced up my skates, and soaked it up, all by myself.”

In this digital age of divided attention spans, we can’t think of any better holiday gift to give this season than that of a beautiful book. That’s right—a physical, feel-it-in-your-hands, keep-it-on-your-bedside-or-coffee-table book—which, much like a magazine, you can return to time and time again for information and inspiration (not to mention a nice three-dimensional salve for your tired eyeballs).

And this winter, Baltimore artists have made it easy. Consider these beautiful new art books recently published by big-name creatives, ideally to be purchased from a local bookstore near you.

Derrick Adams by Derrick Adams
Leave it to Derrick Adams to create a book that will pop on your shelf as his myriad paintings do on major art-museum walls. This bright pink publication is the highly anticipated debut monograph from the Brooklyn-based Baltimore native, who has become one of America’s most celebrated contemporary artists all while giving back to his hometown.

Out now via Phaidon’s Monacelli imprint, flip through its 150 images of landmark artworks from throughout his 30-year career, including many scenes celebrating everyday Black life, accompanied by essays and interviews.

No Solace in the Shade by Jerrell Gibbs
Jerrell Gibbs is one of the fastest rising artists to come out of Baltimore in recent years. The painter’s large-scale figurative paintings are the stuff of dreams, with big brushstrokes and luminous colors used to reflect on themes of masculinity, fatherhood, and belonging.

This new book shares the same title as his first-ever solo exhibition, now on display at the esteemed Brandywine Museum of Art in Pennsylvania, reflecting on the first decade of his career. Go see the works for yourself, then snag this Rizzoli book, featuring illuminating context written by Baltimore writer Angela N. Carroll, along with the BMA’s head of contemporary art Jessica Bell Brown and local poet Nia June.

American Sublime by Amy Sherald
The must-see art exhibition of 2025 is hands-down the serendipitous Amy Sherald retrospective at the Baltimore Museum of Art. On view through April 5, American Sublime is the most comprehensive exhibition of the one-time Baltimorean’s work to date, with the mid-career retrospective featuring nearly 40 career-spanning paintings—from foundational pieces of the early 2000s to her most iconic masterworks of the past decade, such as the official portrait of First Lady Michelle Obama and a memorial portrait of  Breonna Taylor.

Go experience it in real life, then take those works home as a memento of this historic moment via the exhibition’s catalogue. It’s sold out online, but maybe if you’re lucky, you can snag a copy at the BMA gift shop. You might even recognize the cover star—Denzel Mitchell, Jr., a local farmer, food leader, and the executive director of the Farm Alliance of Baltimore.

Shabtis Gather by Jackie Milad 
In partnership with BmoreArt, mixed-media artist Jackie Milad presents her debut art book, featuring 200 stunning pages that celebrate her work, process, and cultural impact, which has gained a loyal following both in Baltimore and beyond.

Admire the scale and depth of her career across more than 150 images from her kaleidoscopic collages, each featuring bold colors, dynamic textures, and deep symbolism. As a child of Honduran and Egyptian immigrants, Milad often uses her works to explore themes of identity, migration, and ancestral memory. Find this debut book online.

Plus, more magazines, please.

Speaking of BmoreArt, we also can’t help but feel a little fellow print love and suggest gifting a subscription to this beautiful Baltimore periodical. Celebrating the city’s vibrant art scene, it’s a treasure trove of local talent, with its 20th-edition “Icons” issue featuring cover star John Waters, making the perfect stocking stuffer.

And photo books galore!
Baltimore has no shortage of talented photographers, and several of them published books this year, too. Don’t sleep on Baltimore by Devin Allen, chronicling the past decade of Black life and the fight for racial justice in Baltimore, or Scene Seen by Micah E. Wood, celebrating this city’s dynamic music scene.

Not to mention a few more art-y books we love …
We’re grabbing everyone a copy of Claire McCardell: The Designer Who Set Women Free, a brilliant biography on this Frederick-born fashion icon by local author Elizabeth Evitts Dickinson, which taught us so much about the evolution of feminine style.

The book of the year might go to Lawrence Burney’s No Sense in Wishing. The True Laurels founder published his debut book earlier this year. It’s a collection of essays that explore art, identity, and growing up in Baltimore. And it’s landed some of the biggest ‘Best of’ lists, including The New Yorker.

And for something further outside of the box, the new John Waters Screenplay Collection features the local filmmaker’s original scripts for such iconic flicks as Pink Flamingos, Hairspray, Desperate Living, as well as deeper cuts like Multiple Maniacs.

This time of year, Jen Marsh knows exactly how to get into the Christmas spirit. She pulls out her ornaments, props up her tree, and, most importantly, puts Die Hard on her television.

“I mean, who doesn’t love Hans Gruber?” says Marsh emphatically of the over-the-top action-film’s villain, played by the late, great Alan Rickman—and foil to Bruce Willis’ hunky-cop protagonist, John McClane. “I get a little swoony when he comes on screen. Like, be still my heart! He’s so intelligent and self-assured. I like the bad boys, too, you know?”

For Marsh and her neighbor Heather Keating, nothing says holidays like a screening of this 1988 cult-classic, and the Patterson Park residents are ready to host their wildly popular Die Hard Interactive Movie Night at the Creative Alliance on Dec. 6, now in its sixth year and always a sell-out.

“It’s so fun, so silly, just total nonsense,” says Keating, former marketing director at the Eastern Avenue arts center. It’s what they describe as “Rocky Horror meets Mystery Science Theater 3000,” with the duo incorporating improv comedy, costume contests, trivia, and props, like water guns that attendees are encouraged to spray.

“We tell people from the very beginning, if you’re here to watch like a normal person, this is not the movie for you,” says Marsh.

Today, the co-hosts are besties, but their friendship actually began as a business proposition, when Marsh, then the publisher at City Paper, suggested a joint film series with the Creative Alliance. A decade ago, Interactive Movie Nights debuted with The Royal Tenenbaums. Only about a dozen people showed up, but those that did were all-in, with a few even dressed in costume, by their own accord. Wet Hot American Summer, The Goonies, and The Princess Bride followed, with the audiences—and production values—getting bigger and better every year. And as requests started rolling in, one particular picture kept coming up time and time again.

“So we did Die Hard, then we did it again, and we did it again,” says Marsh. “I say give the people what they want.”

“And now we have diehards—oh my god, look at that, diehards!” exclaims Keating, “who come back year after year.”

For them, Interactive Movie Nights showcase the magic of their beloved Creative Alliance, where visitors can experience art and connect with community in unexpected ways. They’re especially proud of their recent Jaws screening, coinciding with ultramarathon swimmer Katie Pumphrey’s water-themed art exhibition, and their recurring Death Becomes Her showing, featuring performances by local drag queens Betty O’Hellno and Fulla Regrets.

“There is nothing more delicious than looking out over the crowd when something crazy is happening on screen and seeing everyone just going berserk,” says Marsh.

“It’s become more than a job for us,” says Keating. “With so much insanity in the world, the fact that we can provide this space for levity, to laugh and let loose, it feels good—it feels important.”

This year, Die Hard will swing into the venue’s Patterson Theater on Dec. 6. Still, is it really a Christmas movie? Sure, it takes place on Christmas Eve, during a Christmas party, with plenty of carols. But it was initially released in July and takes place in Los Angeles, with not a flake of snow in sight.

“There’s not really anything super Christmasy about it,” says Marsh, before adding matter-of-factly, “but it’s definitely a Christmas movie.”

In the latest iteration of The Big Baltimore Playlist, we pick five local songs to add to your current rotation, ranging from sparkly country-pop to experimental post-hardcore to dreamy instrumental soundscapes.

Check back each month for new top tracks, and follow our Spotify playlist (below) as we continue to build a soundtrack for our city.

“Cold 2 The Touch” by Angel Du$t
From its underground upbringing, Baltimore hardcore has fully emerged as the hottest genre in the city’s already on-fire music scene. And in many ways, we have Justice Tripp to thank for that.

In the early aughts, the Essex native helped transformed that break-neck sound into something more expansive—full of deep grooves and dynamic melodies—as the frontman of beloved band Trapped Under Ice. By the early 2010s, that group evolved into Angel Du$t (which, over the years, also featured members of Turnstile) and took the evolution even further, creating something all their own.

Hear their latest incarnation for yourself on this careening title track off their forthcoming album, out on the eve of Valentine’s Day next year.

“Baltimore (Jack’s Version)” by Bartees Strange
Before settling in Baltimore a couple years ago, this British-born, Oklahoma-raised artist lived a bit of a nomadic life. A military brat, he moved around the world in his early years, eventually residing in Brooklyn, then Washington, D.C., until relocating to Maryland—becoming an indie darling along the way. Think NPR Tiny Desk Concerts, Rolling Stone reviews, 4AD record deals.

On this Americana ballad off his latest album, co-produced by record-maker-to-the-stars Jack Antonoff, he confesses to the struggle of always searching for home. In rattling off the downsides of other cities—“New York City, it just costs too much”—and a deeply segregated country—“L.A.’s got everything, except for people like mine”—he leaves Baltimore unnamed, despite the song’s title. In a way, it seems to convey the possibility of this town for him.

“Cerulean Cove” by Birney-Willen
Landscapes is the stuff of dreams. Literally, the soundscapes on this second album from local filmmaker Albert Birney and multidisciplinary designer Bruce Willen are like soundtracks to those reverie states we often find ourselves in, and not just when we’re asleep. Walking down a city street, on a backroads drive, watching the morning light flicker through your bedroom window—all perfect occasions to listen to these 10 tunes.

And it’s unsurprising they’re so transportive, coming from this imaginative duo—with Birney writing and directing otherworldly films like Strawberry Mansion and the upcoming OBEX, and Willen creating visionary installations like Ghost Rivers in Remington, as well as equally mesmerizing instrumental music through his band Peals). We recommend getting lost in thought to any one of them, including this one. And the visual album to boot.

“Cowboy Like Me” by Enslow
It’s not every day that a popstar pops up in Baltimore. But over the last few years, Enslow has emerged as a bona fide singer-songwriter with a feel-good, girly, glittery sound that can stay on constant rotation and command the stage, too.

From Tiny Desk-style Instagram videos with her band through her Taylor Swift tribute concerts with WTMD, she’s garnered a loyal following for her powerhouse vocals, catchy hooks, and captivating live shows. Altogether, it’s a big-label sound, fusing modern electronic touches with hat tips to throwback inspiration.

On her brand-new follow-up album Crush, hear a big anthemic cover of Fleetwood Mac’s “Little Lies” and this country-pop original that conjures both Chappell Roan and Kacey Musgraves (its title also showing off her inner Swifty).

“i can be ur lady” by Plant Dad
This spring release is a deep groove that we can’t stop listening to. For the past few years, Plant Dad has been putting out single after single of impressive bedroom pop. Born in the Philippines, frontman Ralph Bernabe grew up in Baltimore County, teaching himself guitar and piano before getting a formal music education from Towson University, also being part of the Maryland State Boychoir and All State Jazz Bands.

That early, enterprising start shows up in the Towson-alum indie artist’s wide-ranging sound, inspired by 1980s electronic pop, folk singer-songwriters, and more. We recommend digging back through Plant Dad’s oeuvre. But start with this track, from its slow-burn start to its rave-worthy chorus beats, featuring local musician Matt Hurd.

At the Baltimore Museum of Art, a homecoming is underway. For many years, Amy Sherald studied, lived, and worked in this city—first as a master’s student at the Maryland Institute College of Art, under famed painter Grace Hartigan, then as a working artist, with studios near Lexington Market, at the Creative Alliance, and in Station North’s Motor House.

But now based in New York, the Georgia native returns to her one-time hometown this month as one of the most influential figurative painters of the 21st century. On view in the BMA’s Contemporary Wing from November 2 through April 5, 2026, American Sublime is the most comprehensive exhibition of Sherald’s work to date, with the mid-career retrospective featuring nearly 40 paintings that trace the arc of her illustrious career—from foundational pieces of the early 2000s to her most iconic masterworks of the past decade, such as the official portrait of First Lady Michelle Obama and a memorial portrait of  Breonna Taylor.

Over the past two decades, Sherald’s canvases have expanded the canon of American realism. Drawing on her own imagination and memories, giving her works a grand and otherworldly quality, each features a life-like subject in her distinctive gray-scale skin tones, encouraging viewers to look beyond outward appearances into the beauty, joy, and humanity of Black people in their everyday lives. Not just for the eye of the beholder, either, her subjects claim their space on the canvas, thus affirming their existence, experience, and truest selves.

More than half of the exhibition’s works were painted in Baltimore, during the artist’s formative years here—when she also received a Baker Artist Award and exhibited at the likes of the Reginald F. Lewis Museum and Galerie Myrtis—with a QR-code guide listing those with Charm City roots.

“Baltimore has always been part of my DNA as an artist,” said Sherald at the time of the exhibition’s initial announcement. “Every brushstroke carries a little of its history, its energy, its people, and my time there. To bring this exhibition here is to return that love.”

And it all happened quickly. From the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art in California to The Whitney in New York, this landmark showcase was slated to wrap its three-location run this fall at the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C. But in July, Sherald canceled that last stop, after learning that the Smithsonian-led institution was considering the removal of one of her recent works—Trans Forming Liberty, depicting a transgender Statue of Liberty—“to avoid provoking President Trump,” per The New York Times, after the administration began launching attacks on their curators, claiming that they were sowing division through an emphasis on diversity, equity, and inclusion.

Shortly after the announcement, BMA director Asma Naeem texted the artist, asking if she might come to Baltimore instead. Sherald responded immediately. In less than two months, they pulled together the exhibition with contemporary art curator Cecilia Wichmann, assistant contemporary art curator Antoinette Roberts, among others. And the rest is now history.

“Can you feel the electricity of this moment, the specialness of this moment?” said Naeem during an exhibition preview on Wednesday. As was previously planned (but now feels especially serendipitous), the museum will also honor Sherald during its annual BMA Ball on November 22.

For a chronological experience, viewers are recommended to enter the exhibition from the right and follow the galleries counterclockwise. Along the way, Sherald’s evolution as an artist comes into relief—from her process and technique to her perspective and scale—culminating in her biggest and boldest work yet. Altogether, it’s a powerful and poignant collection that offers viewers an intimate moment of connection and reflection. Not to mention a sense of civic pride for Baltcimore.

Tickets are now available online, with free admission offered on November 2, January 15, and February 19. The artist will join Naeem for a sold-out, in-person conversation on November 2, though it will be streamed live on YouTube for all to see.

And while every work is worth a pause—including the soaring If You Surrendered to the Air, You Could Ride It and the Ecclesia triptych at the exhibition’s entrance—below are six Baltimore-centric pieces certainly not to miss.

Miss Everything (Unsuppressed Deliverance)
This might be the painting that launched Amy Sherald’s career. In 2016, it won the prized Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition from the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery in D.C., with Sherald becoming the first woman and first African American to receive this recognition. (Coincidentally, Naeem was a curator there at the time, then focusing on prints, drawings, and media.)

Two years earlier, this nearly life-size work had been painted in Baltimore and modeled by local artist-baker Krystal Mack. Like most of Sherald’s works—which often blur the lines between fantasy and reality—the subject stares directly at the viewer, in this instance nearly at eye level, as if she might walk right out of the canvas. But with its dreamy, water-color-esque background, there is a touch of Alice In Wonderland-like whimsy, reminding you it’s make-believe. Notice the young woman’s pop of a red hat and oversized teacup, which also give the impression that she’s playing dress-up, in turn revealing that deeply human feeling of desire.

Michelle LaVaughn Robinson Obama
By now, most of us have seen the image of this official portrait of Michelle Obama, painted in Baltimore by Sherald in 2018. But there’s nothing quite like standing before it in real life. The subject is depicted not in a storied room at the White House, as one might expect, but against a bright blue sky, with the First Lady’s overflowing gown alluding to her modern style while also paying homage to the quilt-making heritage of Black communities in Sherald’s own American South.

With a confident stare and gentle hand rested beneath her chin, she embodies both elegance and enigma, all the while exuding her signature warmth and approachability. “I am a little overwhelmed, to say the least,” said Obama during the piece’s unveiling at the National Portrait Gallery in 2022. “I’m also thinking about all the young people, particularly girls and girls of color, who in years ahead will come to this place, and they will look up, and they will see an image of someone who looks like them, hanging on the wall of this great American institution.”

A God Blessed Land (Empire of Dirt)
For many a Baltimorean, the subject of this stunning portrait might be as iconic as Obama’s. Painted in 2022, a large horizontal canvas captures the likeness of Denzel Mitchell, Jr., a Baltimore farmer, the executive director of the Farm Alliance of Baltimore, and an all-around leader in the local food movement. Like the First Lady, he poses against a blue sky, set in an imaginary field atop of a bright green John Deere tractor with a pink steering wheel, with an electric fence almost easy to miss along the horizon in the background.

With the sun upon his face, Mitchell wears a white T-shirt and blue-jean overalls, the latter being a nod to the uniform of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee during the Civil Rights movement. In this country, the legacies of land, food, and freedom are inextricably linked, and Mitchell’s scene serves as a reminder of the significant contributions of Black farmers and laborers to this nation’s agricultural history. Sit and stay awhile with this compelling work, then be sure to hear him tell his own perspective in the accompanying audio guide.

Breonna Taylor
In the fall of 2020, Baltimore native Ta-Nehisi Coates was commissioned to guest-edit Vanity Fair. For the September issue, he would be writing about Breonna Taylor, a 26-year-old EMT, who, that March, was shot and killed during a botched police raid in her own home. In the days that followed, her death ignited a wave of protests across the United States, inspiring the “say her name” rallying cry and cementing Taylor as a symbol of America’s long history of racism, gun violence, and police brutality to this day.

To accompany his story, Coates enlisted Sherald for the magazine’s cover. Working with and using photographs from the family, she painted this namesake portrait that summer, during the historic protests following the murder of another Black American, George Floyd. It is now co-owned by the National Museum of African American History & Culture in D.C. and the Speed Museum in Louisville, Kentucky, Taylor’s hometown. 

In true likeness, it is a deeply moving tribute to not just Taylor’s legacy, but her abbreviated yet full and loving life. The artist uses the gentle positioning of her hands, the flow of her turquoise dress, and subtle details like her gold cross and engagement ring to capture her dignity, grace, and most of all, humanity.

Though they were yet to be engaged, Taylor’s partner, Kenneth Walker, who was with her when she was killed, had plans to propose. Still, Sherald incorporated the ring, invoking the potential of a brighter future—a touching gesture that showcases the transcendent power of art.

Listen, you a wonder. You a city of a woman. You got a geography of your own.
The title of this painting comes from the opening lines of “what the mirror said,” a 1980 poem by late Baltimore poet—and former poet laureate of Maryland— Lucille Clifton. It’s one of many works that takes inspiration from Sherald’s encyclopedic knowledge of the arts, including film, literature, and poetry, with this having a special local resonance, as Clifton grew up in Windsor Hills, where her former home is now becoming a vital cultural space.

Painted here in 2016, Sherald’s subject stands with a powerful posture, calm confidence, and subtle smile. Beneath a big hat partially shading the young woman’s face, she presents an air of mystery, which, much like Clifton’s poems, evokes the multitudes of Black womanhood. Like Miss Everything, but with a slightly older and wiser attitude, it, too, is an affirmation.

It also speaks to the artist’s process. Sherald often begins by choosing a model, followed by careful composition with clothing and props, before ultimately photographing them, with the final image serving as a study for her painting. Through all of her works, look for the tiny revealing details. Like, in this instance, the sun tan on her ring finger, showing the jewelry that’s no longer there.

Trans Forming Liberty
If it weren’t for this painting, American Sublime might not have made its way to Baltimore. But after the National Portrait Gallery pondered pulling the portrait, Sherald pivoted to bring the retrospective here. “Portraiture has always been my way of asserting presence—of creating visibility where there has too often been erasure,” wrote the artist in a letter to the secretary of the Smithsonian, announcing her decision.

Now, this monumental masterwork stands in the south corner for all to marvel. Over 10 feet tall, with a hand on her hip and a bouquet of orange flowers replacing that iconic flame in hand, Sherald’s Lady Liberty is “a radical move—in color, in shading, and in sheer imagination,” said BMA director Asma Naeem during the preview, also calling it a “colossus” in a hat-tip to the 1883 Emma Lazarus poem etched on the side of the original sculpture. For Arewà Basit, the trans performing artist who served as the model, the final result is empowering, embodying a feeling of “full pride,” as she says in the audio guide, as well as the nation’s potential. 

In this final room, these four larger-than-life portraits summarize the retrospective’s title. In addition to the aforementioned A God Blessed Land, this beauty queen joins a sailor kissing his lover (a riff on that famous photograph from World War II) and a leisurely bicyclist standing beside a white picket fence—challenging deeply engrained symbols of the so-called American Dream. Standing at their crossroads at the end of the exhibition, as the title alludes, the audience is left with an immense sense of awe.

In the summer of 2017, The Big Baltimore Playlist was born. Back then, we launched this monthly column to showcase the local music scene and celebrate its sonic abundance. Here’s what we wrote at the time:

“Baltimore’s music scene has had a number of peaks—the bluegrass days of the 1950s, the hard (and hair) rock era of the 1980s, the Bmore Club nights of the 1990s, and Wham City in the early aughts. But we have to say: The city couldn’t sound better than it does right now. In fact, we’re having trouble keeping up.”

Those words couldn’t be any truer today—a testament to the kind of talent that continues to brew up, boil over, and burst out of this singular, special town of ours, over and over again. And, by all measures, it doesn’t look like that’ll be slowing down anytime soon.

There are breakout bands like Turnstile, of course—and End It, and Jivebomb, and Pinkshift—bringing Baltimore’s hardcore sound to the masses. And standout artists like trumpet player Brandon Woody and saxophonist Daoure Diongue, shining a light on this city’s deeply rooted and respected jazz legacy, with a next-generation touch. Not to mention prolific DJ producers like SDOT, Tromac, and Kade Young, keeping club beats alive and well in their genre’s hometown, while boundary-breakers like Infinity Knives, Nourished by Time, and Mowder Oyal continue to keep us on our toes. And on and on it goes.

With that in mind, after a (not so brief) hiatus, we running it back to bring you The Big Baltimore Playlist—2.0! Check back each month for some of our favorite new songs (plus a few oldies but goodies) from the local scene, and follow along our Spotify playlist for a soundtrack to the city, to boot.

“Never Gonna Run Away” by Brandon Woody
If you’re new to the city and want to know what it sounds like, look no further than the searing trumpet of Brandon Woody. On his debut record, out now via the esteemed Blue Note Records out of New York City, the Baltimore native buoyantly bottles the many nuances of his hometown—its struggles and its triumphs—crafting a deeply moving tribute along the way. On this opening track, he and his Upendo band are joined by jazz vocalist Imani-Grace for a rich and rousing reminder: keep the faith.

“Could You Love Me?” by End It
One of the fastest rising bands coming out of Baltimore right now, this hardcore quartet is pure powder-keg energy, cranking out a deeply authentic, breakneck brand of its heavy, hard-hitting genre. For the uninitiated, dip your toes in with this euphoric cover of New York pioneers Maximum Penalty off End It’s just-dropped debut album, Wrong Side of Heaven.

And if you missed tickets to their sold-out Soundstage release party at the end of the month, revel in the live action of the music video, featuring scene royalty like No Idols’ Paris Roberts and Angel Du$t’s Justice Tripp, to name a few.

“You, Me, the Reign” by Micah E. Wood
Leave it to this beloved, heart-on-his-sleeve songwriter to make an outright fun album for processing our current moment of societal dystopia. Despite all the horrors, listening to this title track—featuring local rap legend Eze Jackson—you’ll likely find yourself crooning along, laughing out loud at a few lyrics (“silly dudes, combative…”), and positively loving on the music video, featuring protest photography by Baltimore contributor Isaiah Winters—just like we did. Thanks for all that, Micah.

“Baby Baby” by Nourished by Time
Marcus Brown has a sound like none other. Since 2019, the Baltimore native has been making music under this nom de plume, and boy, is “nourished by time” a fitting way to describe his sonic style. Each song is a layer cake of ethereal vocals and eclectic inspiration—lo-fi pop, ’90s R&B, new wave, post-punk, deep house, etc.—all coming together into something truly transcendent, like a dream. We could dance all night to this ninth track off his new album, Passionate Ones, which includes zero misses. This fall, we recommend you do the same.

“Never Enough” by Tromac
We could name so many songs to listen to off the new Turnstile album—aka the entire thing—but by now, we’re pretty sure every reader in Baltimore already knows Never Enough from front to back, too. Instead, do yourself a favor and dig into this Baltimore Club remix by Baltimore-based DJ-producer, who also happens to hail from P.G. County, like Turnstile’s own drummer Daniel Fang. (Afterwards, go read more about the local hit-maker in this Baltimore Beat profile.)

The more dancing the better as this year comes to a close. And any time we need a truly Bmore hype-up, we’ve got this bop on repeat.

The year begins to slow with the arrival of autumn, but the same cannot be said for the local arts scene. Over the next few months, brand-new seasons of cultural programming begin again at both small and large venues all across Baltimore, bringing with them fresh exhibitions, plays, performances, and much more—altogether showcasing the bona fide abundance of our local creative community.

Make the most of your fall by attending a few of the events featured in our October issue’s Fall Arts Preview. But don’t stop there—there are so many incredible offerings this time of year, we couldn’t fit all of them in. Long live the local arts!

10/2-5: NEW/NEXT FILM FESTIVAL
Even in the land of John Waters, we still can’t believe that we’re a city of two film festivals (see MdFF writeup below). Now in its third year, this already beloved Baltimore Public Media production presents four days of all things cinema at The Charles Theatre, including appearances by local film folks like comedian-turned-actor Stavros Halkias.

10/3-11/2: INTERIOR ARCHITECTURES
Curated by Baltimore Beat arts-and-culture editor Teri Henderson at Current space on Howard Street, this new exhibition explores the ways in which we construct our inner lives, featuring the drawing-based artworks of Vinnie Hager and the sculptural paintings of Emma Childs, as well as collaborative works by these two up-and-coming local artists.

10/3-5: NOBODY IS EVER MISSING
Including both highly trained and self-taught musicians, Baltimore’s Mind On Fire collective is shaping the future of classical music. See for yourself during this bold new opera, based on the 2014 novel of the same name, with three open-air, pay-what-you-can performances taking place at sunset on the Stony Run Trail.

10/4: OTTOBAR’S 28TH BIRTHDAY BASH
After nearly three decades, this Remington rock club has cemented itself as royalty of the local music scene. Celebrate their reign with this free, all-ages festival at the Inner Harbor Amphitheater. From noon to 8 p.m., catch live music from multiple Baltimore bands, plus food trucks and a flea market.

10/4-5: OPEN STUDIO TOUR
For one weekend, get a behind-the-scenes look inside the studios of some of Baltimore’s most talented artists. Over the past 37 years, this citywide event has grown into a time-honored tradition, offering glimpses into the working lives of our local painters, sculptors, collage artists, ceramicists, photographers, and more.

10/4-9/6/2026: FANTASTIC REALITIES
The American Visionary Art Museum is known for its collection of wild, whimsical, wonderful artworks. Now, they’re digging even deeper into that specialty, with this new exhibition exploring extraordinary, otherworldly creations—everything from pastel spirit portals to soap-carved sci-fi universes—that suspend both space and time.

10/10: ART IN OVERDRIVE
A decade ago, the Motor House appeared in the old Load of Fun building and quickly became a pillar of the Station North Arts District, hosting everything from art exhibits and music performances to open mics for poetry and comedy. Toast their anniversary during this jam-packed celebration of the neighborhood’s creative community.

10/10-12: SUBSCAPE
There’s no shortage of great DIY music in Baltimore, but this second-annual festival brings much of it under one roof during this free, all-ages showcase. Across three days at a trio of local venues—Metro, Mobtown Ballroom, Ema’s Corner—catch more than 60 acts under the underground umbrella, from punk and metal to indie and experimental.

10/25: THE WALTERS GALA & PARTY
Every fall, The Walters Art Museum’s annual gala is one of the most haute happenings in the city’s cultural sphere. Help support the Mount Vernon institution’s commitment to free admission with fine dining throughout its hallowed halls, with more affordable tickets also available for the Sculpture Court after-party. (Similarly, catch the Baltimore Museum of Art’s BMA Ball on November 22.)

10/26: END IT’S WRONG SIDE OF HEAVEN RELEASE SHOW
If you haven’t heard, Baltimore is having a bit of a hardcore music moment (see our October 2025 cover story on Turnstile) and this five-piece band is one of the reasons why. See them perform their new album, Wrong Side of Heaven, out now via Flatspot Records, during this Sunday night show at Baltimore Soundstage.

10/31-11/1: CHOCOLATE-COVERED ROCKY HORROR
For 10 years, this African-American shadow-cast (aka a theatrical troupe that performs as a live accompaniment to a film screening) has delighted local audiences with its rollicking rendition of the cult-classic Rocky Horror Picture Show. At Center Stage, experience all the excitement, which also includes a costume contest and audience participation.

11/1: DEAD COMPOSERS SOCIETY
Dan Rodricks seems to be everywhere these days. From his new Substack column to his recent run as a playwright, the former Baltimore Sun columnist is now teaming up with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra for an afternoon kids’ concert full of sonic storytelling. Bring the little ones for this collaboration that’s sure to spark the imagination.

11/2-4/5/26: AMERICAN SUBLIME
Amy Sherald might be based in New York now, but after years of living, learning, and working in this city, not to mention repping it around the world, she’ll always be Baltimore to us. The most comprehensive collection of her paintings to date, this massive traveling exhibition, soon to be on view at the BMA, helps recognize Sherald as one of the most iconic American artists of this century.

11/5-9: MARYLAND FILM FEST
We’re still adjusting to some of Baltimore’s biggest arts festivals changing their long-held dates (looking at you, Artscape). But no matter when it happens, we’re happy that this once-spring, now-fall ritual is returning. Enjoy five days of film, filmmaker Q&As, food, music, and after-parties at the Parkway Theatre in Station North.

11/7-12/12: SUBMERSIVE PRODUCTIONS
This “collaborative artworks” company wears its name well. For the past decade, it’s taken viewers on immersive explorations through site-specific, sensory-rich, theatrical experiences. In this namesake exhibition at the Creative Alliance, relive those moments through costumes and props, video installations, and interactive performances.

11/8: TERMITE
For one night only at The Peale, soak in this movie premiere from gifted Baltimore cinematographer Kirby Griffin. The short documentary film captures the story of lifelong Cherry Hill resident “Termite” Kin Lane Brown, who, over the decades, has helped her neighbors navigate hardship, along the way becoming a hero of her community.

11/9: ROOTED AND RISING
To honor 25 seasons of the Full Circle Dance Company, head to the Baltimore Museum of Art for two brand-new dances from the city’s preeminent modern dance troupe: To Come Full Circle, honoring the ensemble’s artistic family, and She Did That!, inspired by the stories of female ancestors.

11/11-15: DIFFUSION FESTIVAL
Every September, the city’s annual High Zero Festival presents an eclectic array of musical performances, deemed the East Coast’s don’t-miss showcase of experimental music. But if you didn’t make it this year, fear not—you can still catch this exhibition of electronic and acoustic music from the same organizers, taking place at the innovative Voxel theater.

11/16: ASTRONAUT SYMPHONY
Scott and Alisha Patterson are the brains behind this one-of-a-kind band, which typically finds itself performing multi-sensory, sci-fi space operas in venues across Baltimore—a true embodiment of the city’s creative DIY ethos. Witness their otherworldly sound during two evening sets at the Keystone Korner.

11/30-1/4/2026: DECEIVED
From Agatha Christie to Sherlock Holmes, no one does a mystery like Everyman Theatre. At this downtown playhouse, sit on the edge of your seat during this gripping adaptation of the famous psychological thriller Gaslight, where a web of manipulation forces a young woman to doubt her own sanity.

TO 2/26: THE DAILY HUSTLE
It’s a good thing this powerful exhibition will be up for a while at the Baltimore Museum of Industry. We’re going to want to go back several times to soak up the images of I. Henry Phillips Sr., a pioneering photographer for the city’s Afro-American newspaper. Curated by his grandson, Webster Phillips, the collection depicts Black Baltimoreans at work, emphasizing their grace, style, and strength throughout the everyday.

“Futurists.” That’s how Scott and Alisha Patterson describe themselves and their artistic collective, Afro House, which launched in Baltimore in 2013.

For the past dozen years, the married creative partners—he’s a classically trained pianist and she’s a professional arts administrator—have been expanding their horizons. From hosting collaborative in-home concerts and a “100 Year Symposium” conversation series to hatching their more recent, multi-sensory, sci-fi space operas, they’ve become an embodiment of the city art scene’s DIY ethos.

Exhibit A: Cloud Nebula, their latest intergalactic odyssey, presented earlier this year at The Voxel. The three-act work fuses music, dance, theater, and film into a cosmic world of love, hope, and Black liberation. Set in a fantastical, futuristic universe, it chronicles the journey of Jakub, a celestial star in human form, as she guides survivors of her dying planet to the luminous oasis of the Cloud Nebula. Along the way, in an all-too-relatable plot line, she’s confronted by Osei, an artificial dark sun which aims to gain power by swallowing their light.

But for those who missed the shows, fear not. Recorded live, the euphoric, funk-infused soundtrack is now available as Afro House’s debut album, and they’ll be performing at Keystone Korner on November 16. Best of all, the Pattersons are only just beginning their explorations, to infinity and beyond.

Scott, you’re a classically trained pianist, while Alisha comes from a background in arts administration. Where does this desire for experimentation come from within you?

SP: I’m often confused about why there is a separation between experimentation and quote-unquote classical music. When I was in school, we studied Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, Bach. They’re all innovators. But I grew up listening to and playing all different types of music. My father is a jazz bassist. We love funk. We grew up in church with gospel music. So there’s a hunger for many different sounds in me … At Afro House, we’re futurists. We’re space explorers. We want to boldly go where no one has gone before. I know that’s cheesy, but that’s really us. Musically, we’re always trying to search.

AP: And push boundaries. And not just for pushing boundaries’ sake. But driven by curiosity and always questioning the [status quo].

SP: When you stay too hard in tradition, it can become a mausoleum of what happened before. We’re very much interested in: What’s it going to look like, 100 years from now? I think that’s what it is to be human—to be able to imagine. And if you have just enough power to imagine despair, I choose hope.

Why opera?

SP: Opera can be really big. For us, we are called Afro House. We create futuristic stories about Black people. And one of the things I love about opera is that it lends itself to very gigantic ideas. And it can place Black people in these epic stories, in a way I did not see growing up.

When I was going to school in New York, I went to see Porgy and Bess [which depicts the lives of African Americans in the 1920s] at Lincoln Center. That’s one of the operas I grew up with; my father used to play the music, and the album by Miles Davis and Gil Evans. They were these really big scores, and I just loved it. I wished there was more like it. And I wanted to do that for Black people.

When did science fiction first enter your orbit?

SP: I was eight years old. My aunt took me to see Return of the Jedi. It had just come out in theaters. And it blew my mind. I fell in love with being able to go to another world. For me, film has been the biggest influence. Star Wars. Star Trek. Dune. I love those big space odysseys. And when I started thinking about, well, how can I create stories that are on that scale? Opera stuck out the most as a vehicle.

AP: We’re also raising two Black boys. So we’re thinking about, what role can we play in shaping how they see themselves in the world? How can we help to inform their sense of self by actually producing art that centers Blackness in these vast situations? And us in the future, what could that look like?

And your sons are featured in this performance and on the album—Judah, 14, plays guitar, and Ra, 11, plays saxophone. What was it like creating this together?

AP: It’s been very special to have these experiences with them. This is what we can offer them as parents, whether or not they decide to go into the arts. Like, they now know that it’s possible to do something really big that you’ve never done before. And that a community of people will come together and support that vision. I didn’t see enough of that growing up. And of course, it’s not a big deal to them, they could really care less, but…

SP: We’re old fogies and very uncool. [Laughs.]

Tell us, what is Cloud Nebula?

SP: For me, as a creator, a storyteller, it is the future, and a metaphor. The characters are us, and the task is, how do we get to that future that we know is bright?

AP: And it’s not dystopian. It’s a vibrant story of hope. The album is the same way. We want people to put it on and just be able to be nourished and filled with hope.

What inspired the album?

SP: In creating this score, we were thinking about the experience we wanted to give to people, and I wanted to give as much of myself as I can, and be a complete artist and human being. I love orchestral music, but I also like funk, rock, jazz, and soul. I’m very much influenced by Earth Wind & Fire, and one of my favorite things to listen to is their live albums. … We want to do a vinyl eventually. So that you can put that needle on and just let go.

There are 15 floors in the tiny elevator of the Bromo Seltzer Arts Tower. At the top, visitors exit out into a small atrium, surrounded by a miniature museum, dedicated to the building’s namesake—a now-discontinued headache and heartburn remedy, of all things.

And yet from this landing, on a warm summer morning in early July, Eliza Kurtz is taking us even higher. On the 16th floor, accessible only via the marble staircase, she reaches a narrow hallway where a window in the wood-paneled wall reveals the bottom of a large pendulum, swinging back and forth, back and forth, roughly every other second. Then she gestures toward a set of industrial steps—up one more, to the tower’s main attraction.

“Watch yourself on the ship’s ladder,” says Kurtz, facilities manager for the Baltimore Office of Promotion and the Arts (BOPA), which oversees this city-owned landmark on the corner of Lombard and Eutaw streets—one of the skyline’s most iconic features.

When completed in 1911, the downtown tower was the tallest building in Baltimore, visible for miles and from the ships that entered the city’s bustling harbor. Originally known as the Emerson Tower, it was built by Isaac Edward Emerson, the pharmacist who invented the best-selling antacid, and the owner of the Maryland Glass Corporation, which manufactured the medicine’s blue-glass bottles in a factory on the same corner.

Modeled after the Palazzo Vecchio in Italy, the brick skyscraper was the talk of the town, crowned with a castle-like clocktower, atop which sat an illuminated, revolving, super-sized bottle of Bromo Seltzer. That dazzling advertisement was later removed for safety reasons (like the product itself), but the four-dial timepiece remains, with the story-high hands of each face still ticking around roman numerals and the dozen blue letters that spell out that late brand name today.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” says Kurtz, stepping out onto the 17th floor, where natural light pours into an old workroom from the north, south, east, and west. Warehouse lamps hang from above. Paint fades on century-old beams and brick. And in the center of the room sits the surprisingly compact yet complex clock mechanism, slowly but surely moving time.

It’s a feat of physics, this gravity-driven piece of machinery, powered by a 400-pound stack of weights suspended in the air on a steel cable. Eventually wound back up by an electric motor, they gradually descend throughout the day, turning a set of shiny brass gears. Those engage two pencil-sized pins that keep the downstairs pendulum steadily swinging, which ultimately turns the hours and minutes on the story-high hands outside, visible to passersby from the streets below.

And it’s up to Kurtz to keep it all running. One of the few female clock-keepers in the world, the 28-year-old Monkton native and University of Maryland grad is tasked with routine upkeep, from daily checks to monthly maintenance, which includes dusting surfaces, oiling gears, and resetting the time when necessary. Which is not only twice a year for daylight savings.

“Mechanical timekeeping is notoriously imperfect,” says Kurtz, pointing to a variety of factors that can impact its function, like wind and humidity. “Usually, by the end of the month, it’s at least five minutes off.”

For big fixes, she enlists a restoration company from Maine. Other days, she oversees the rest of the building, helping manage the 25 artist studios located between the fourth and 14th floors, which opened here in 2008, a few years after BOPA took over the building. She also coordinates the gallery exhibitions on the lower levels and lobby, and on Saturdays, leads public tours, hosting both awestruck tourists who’ve spotted the building from a hotel or ball game and longtime locals, some visiting for the very first time. This month, during the biannual Bromo Art Walk on Sept. 11, all floors are open for exploring.

Kurtz remembers touring the tower as a little kid, but never expected to work here. She arrived at BOPA six years ago, knowing next to nothing about horology (aka the science of clock keeping), instead learning along the way.

“These days, the clock gets hidden behind other buildings,” says the 28-year-old, looking like a chic mechanic in her 1940s-inspired workwear and platform combat boots, “but in Baltimore, you grow up seeing it.”

And while no longer the city’s tallest structure, the Bromo tower is still something to marvel at—its dials even being one whole foot larger than those of its better-known cousin, located across the pond in England.

“Take that, Big Ben,” says Kurtz.

Art Space is a recurring element in the UpFront section of our print publication that spotlights a local art project making an impact in the city at large. Here’s what’s going on this month:

Anthony Cushing Jr. walks into a bar on Thames Street. In his standard uniform—a black ballcap, an oxford button-down, silver rings on his fingers, a medallioned chain around his neck—he slips through the crowd, greeted by a seemingly endless procession of hugs, handshakes, and “hey, Tonys!,” before dipping into the service pass for a small pour of whiskey.

As the first band of the day belts out a rockabilly rendition of “Hit the Road Jack,” he checks the cash register, chats with his bartenders, then reaches through the draft taps to kiss the ring of an older patron.

For him, this isn’t just any bar. It’s his bar. And his father’s bar before him.

“I run the circus here,” says Cushing, 41, with a wry smile, talking a mile a minute while a motley crew of customers fills the wooden stools and spreads out across the standing-room dance floor of the Cat’s Eye Pub on this cool Sunday afternoon in June. Most are here to hear the music, which graces the small corner stage seven days a week, 365 days a year, holidays included. Others have simply stopped in to see friends and have a drink. Or three.

Near the front windows, beneath the ceiling’s upside-down Christmas tree and miniature schooner, preppy twenty-somethings take shots and watch the Orioles play between Barry Glazer commercials. Closer to the graffitied bathrooms and in the low-lit backroom, a few gray-haired barflies sip their pints or read the news.

All around them is a museum’s worth of memorabilia: fading photographs, oil paintings of Fells Point’s old working waterfront, flags from around the world brought in by visiting sailors, as the Cat’s Eye—located the flick of a cigarette butt from the Baltimore harbor—has long been the city’s salty-dog watering hole.

It’s the kind of place that today’s hipsters could only wish to emulate. “But nothing in here was bought at a store, or could be replaced,” says Cushing, pointing to the murals of Irish history painted by late local artist C.W. Newton, or behind the stage, to the “Wall of Fallen Soldiers,” hung with portraits of his dad, “Big Tony,” and his original co-owner, Kenny Orye, both of whom have long since passed away.

And boy, after a half-century, if these walls could talk, they would certainly tell some stories. Same goes for Cushing, who’s run the bar for two of those decades, alongside a tight-knit staff and the pub’s matriarch, his mother, Ana Marie. Not that he’ll necessarily remember, though.

“After 21 years? I don’t know what happened yesterday,” says the boyish barkeep. “It’s Groundhog Day in here. It all blends together … But I could be fast asleep, going full Weekend at Bernie’s, and run the bar just fine.”

Still, it’s honest work, and he’s proud of it—placing the orders, tending the bar, buying a round for birthdays, sending the last stragglers home with a bottle of water, keeping the 41 keg lines clean—especially as the neighborhood changes and other long-standing businesses call it a day.

“We’re the last of the Mohicans, the last of our kind,” says Cushing. “And we’re busier now than ever.”

When the Cat’s Eye Pub opened in the spring of 1975, Fells Point was reveling in a moment of rebirth. Residents had just stopped the highway from cutting through their cobblestone streets, and at the water’s edge, the docks still bustled with ships and tugboats. The neighborhood was founded as Baltimore’s first port of call, thanks to its deep harbor, around which blossomed a cultural crossroads of maritime activity. From the very beginning, it was a hard-living, heavy-drinking district, full of boarding houses, brothels, and, of course, bars.

By the middle of the 20th century, you could find one on every corner, many helmed by scrappy young owners—Leadbetter’s, Bertha’s Mussels, Turkey Joe’s, Pete’s Hotel, John Steven’s, The Whistling Oyster, The Horse You Came In On (purchased with winnings from the Pimlico Race Course)—and crammed with a colorful cast of working-class characters: sailors, shift workers, drunks, punks, poets, John Waters with his entourage of eccentric artists, and, of course, the Cat’s Eye’s Kenny Orye.

“The majordomo,” says Steve Bunker, owner of the old China Sea Marine Trading shop, who arrived on the Broadway Square in ’76. “Kenny drank too much and misbehaved a lot. But he was an interesting guy. And all kinds of crazy stuff happened around that bar back then.”

“WE’RE THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS, THE LAST OF OUR KIND. AND WE’RE BUSIER NOW THAN EVER.”

Growing up near Clifton Park, Orye dropped out of high school his senior year to work in the city’s booming steel industry until coming into an inheritance. Instead of using it for college, as was his old man’s wish, the 21-year-old opened up a tavern at 1730 Thames Street with Big Tony, a Texas-born, Europe-raised military brat whom he’d met through a mutual friend. “Liquor Board Growls, And Cat’s Eye Pub Winks” declared The Baltimore Sun within their first six months, after complaints from neighbors about loud music and lewd behavior well past last call.

“It would be open sometimes until sunrise,” says Bunker, 79, a former boat captain whose parrot was known to sit on Orye’s shoulder and curse at customers. “I’d be working late and walking home. The windows would be dark, but I’d hear people inside. I’d knock on the door and Easy Eddie—a Vietnam vet, with his big moon face, who ran the back—would open it and say, ‘Bunker! Come in, man.’ The marijuana smoke would knock you over and everybody would be there. The local beat cop, the state’s attorney, illegal Irishmen, Russian sailors who’d jumped ship, drinking free booze and playing cards and telling war stories. That would go on until Kenny fell asleep at the bar, at which point Jeff Knapp, the bartender, who many say looked like Abraham Lincoln, would rob the cash register to buy us breakfast at Jimmy’s. And then it would start all over again.”

From the beginning, it was an Irish bar, as Orye held a particular soft spot for the Emerald Isle, and the IRA. Many nights, string bands played rebel tunes and seaside ballads to a full house, with other genres eventually added: jazz, blues, rock-and-roll. Beer was cheap. Whiskey flowed freely. (The Cat’s Eye was named after a West Virginia distillery where they bought moonshine in the early days.)

“We had a real saloon society back then,” says Bunker. “So many brilliant people, so many talented people, and so many sad stories, too. But a real community, where an awful lot of people showed up for a second start.”

By ’87, though, they worried the party was over, when Orye died suddenly at age 33. At the time, Big Tony had moved to Florida, and Fells Point was in the midst of a newfound real-estate boom. Forgotten rowhomes were being renovated for families, while factories and warehouses got redeveloped into condos for yuppies. Soon enough, the tugs pulled anchor, and the last of the old guard left in Fells were a few oddball shops and those seedy bars, which were increasingly changing hands and sprucing up.

In fact, with Orye out of the picture, local realtor-cum-preservationist Lucretia Fisher wanted to turn the Cat’s Eye into a tearoom.

“Of course, Kenny wouldn’t hear of it,” says Bunker, recalling the barkeep once pulling out a pistol and blowing a neon sign to bits in the front window, just to quit hearing complaints from Fisher and her county cronies. “She really thought we ought to walk around in three-corner hats and be right out of Colonial Williamsburg. … But then all of a sudden, Big Tony shows back up, and everything changed.”

Anthony Cushing Sr. wore his nickname well. Tall, thin, with a tussle of dark curls, he was larger-than-life to those who knew him, whether gregariously greeting Cat’s Eye regulars—often helping them out during hard times, too—or taking matters into his own hands, tossing troublemakers out onto Thames Street.

“He was the king of leaning in real close and telling a story right to your face,” says Sam Sessa, former nightlife reporter for the Sun, who was told tall tales about tequila-drinking bikers and a rumored second-floor whorehouse from way back when. “He was a rascal, with this sort of devilish smile. Like he was always up to something.”

A raconteur and rambling man, Big Tony ended up in Baltimore by happenstance. After graduating from the University of Maryland’s Munich campus, he worked in publishing in New York City, which in some roundabout way eventually landed him in Fells. He met his wife at 28 and opened the Cat’s Eye with Orye a few months later.

“Neither of them had ever run a bar, but both men had a lot of charm,” says Ana Marie, who, then and now, at 75, handles the business’ books. “And after Kenny died, we did whatever was necessary to make it work.”

Back from Florida with a 5-year-old “Little Tony,” the couple pulled every penny to buy that circa-1810, two-and-a-half-story rowhome building from their retiring landlord. They cleaned up the bar and built a real stage. Friends chipped in. Drinks kept flowing. At one point during repairs, the upstairs fireplace collapsed onto the first floor, sending a plume of dust out the front door. After the last brick fell, they went back inside, topped off their glasses, and carried on their conversations. True to form.

“Ron Furman of Max’s Taphouse once told me that the key to building a bar’s character is to wipe but never scrub, and that’s the Cat’s Eye,” says Sessa, who wrote Big Tony’s Sun obituary, when he died of a heart attack at 62 in 2008. “It is a prism into the past, when Fells Point was full of these gritty bars with cold beer and live music every night. It was a bit like the Wild West back then, and so much of the neighborhood has turned over now. But 50 years later, thanks to the Cushing family, the Cat’s Eye is still there.”

Can Ana Marie believe it? After all, she knows many of the old-timers are either dead or no longer drinking, some now bellying up at the Daily Grind coffee shop next door instead.

“Well … yes,” she says, matter-of-factly. “Because we didn’t give up.”

On this late-spring Sunday, musicians shuffle in—past the Cat’s Eye’s turquoise façade and two Old English signs reading “No Drugs In” and “No Booze Out”—hauling their instruments toward the stage for the afternoon’s second set. Some call that small black platform the “litter box,” and over the years, its tight quarters have become a bona fide stop for not just classic cover bands but some of the city and region’s top talent, booked by the bar’s manager, Jenn Airey. Most of the time, there’s not even a cover charge.

“You’re very much right there, in the crowd, with no distance between you, which actually makes it a great place to play,” says Bud Tiffany, 63, a guitarist with The Kindly Strangers and co-owner of Peter’s Inn, up Ann Street, with his wife, Karin. “On our days off, we always stop in to see who’s playing.”

Tonight, there’s a memorial service for a longtime regular, with an accompanying jam session. Wearing a tie-dye dress and an electric purple hairdo, Kristin Corsi wafts around the bar and waits for her turn at the mic. The local singer has been coming to the Cat’s Eye since the mid-’90s, and loves it so much, she got married here, exchanging vows in the middle of a gig with her bandmate-turned-husband, Bill.

“It’s my church,” says Corsi, who lives a few blocks away on Bank Street. “Nobody cares what you do or where you come from. And that spot, over there, in the middle of the dance floor? We call it the nexus of the universe. I’ve met people from all over the world right there. They come back years later, like, ‘You’re still here!’ Well, I’m always here … In fact, I’ve been thinking about getting a bracelet made that says, ‘If found, return to the Cat’s Eye.’”

On weekends, you can often find “Bowtie” Bob Nelson bopping about, too. Many Sundays, and every St. Patrick’s Day, he attends Mass, then makes his way to Thames Street for his usual: a pint of Guinness and a Jameson, neat. He knows there’s been an influx of fancy restaurants and cocktail lounges around the neighborhood lately, but he likes the lack of pretension in this pub, where anyone and everyone can cut a rug, and the “only gourmet decision to make is if you get the plain or barbecue Utz.”

“The Cat’s Eye is something that Atlas will never be able to take over, because it just wouldn’t work,” says Nelson, 80, referring to the high-end hospitality group that’s gobbled up other stalwarts like the Waterfront Hotel and Admiral’s Cup. “You hope it’s going to be here forever.”

As the band launches into their first song, Little Tony bounces between the front and back bars, holding court beside a black-and-white photograph of him in here as a little kid, his head barely reaching the rail. In his grade-school yearbook, his dream was to “run a successful bar” one day. And by now, he’s had plenty of practice, dropping out of college to learn the ropes from Big Tony, then stepping all the way in after his father’s death.

HE LIKES THE LACK OF PRETENSION IN THIS PUB, WHERE ANYONE AND EVERYONE CAN CUT A RUG, AND THE “ONLY GOURMET DECISION TO MAKE IS IF YOU GET THE PLAIN OR BARBECUE UTZ.”

In one breath, Cushing says he’s got just under a decade left in him—and a recurring nightmare where he can’t catch up on drink orders. And yet, in the next, he’s reminiscing about his first shift, when he ran the bar all by his lonesome, then went home with a grand in tips and an adrenaline rush to last a lifetime, making it hard to imagine him anywhere else.

But sell it to some stranger with deep pockets? He’s clear on that one: “I’d rather burn the place to the fucking ground.”

Besides, he wants to finish his dad’s to-do list—the last item left being an enclosed balcony above the stage, where a 1920s pool table is already waiting. Not that there’s much time to make it happen. The bar doesn’t take a day off and slings some thousand drinks a week year-round. No matter that closing time comes early—the clock above the refrigerator is set 15 minutes ahead.

“I pay my doorman to kick me out, too,” quips Cushing. “I always thank him in the morning.”

Later, on the back patio, for a little quiet while the band grooves on, his mother straightens her blouse, sips a glass of white wine, and remembers that it’s Father’s Day.

Ana Marie still feels Big Tony all around. In fact, many believe that his ghost—along with Orye’s and that Lincoln-esque Knapp’s—still haunts the pub. Making it easy to wonder what he might think of the place these days.

She pauses, grins, then shrugs. “He’d be glad.”

Then Little Tony leans in, his eyes lighting up, just like his dad. “He’d say that we’ve done good.”

Art Space is a recurring element in the UpFront section of our print publication that spotlights a local art project making an impact in the city at large. Here’s what’s going on this month:

For moments of reading or reflection, bibliophiles can enjoy the grounds, as well as Concrete Poetry, an interactive outdoor art installation by local artist Julia Kim Smith. Tucked into one leafy corner, 100 freestanding cast concrete letters can be rearranged to compose lines of poetry, with regular events featuring notable poets reciting their own verse.

Most nights of the week, through the leaf-green door at 1712 Aliceanna Street, Will Mester will be in the back corner, a white apron tied around his waist, drifting between the two induction cooktops of his ad-hoc kitchen, the smell of melting butter in the air, as he quietly cooks up a storm under the lamplight of The Wren.

It’s not exactly where you might expect to find him. Over the last 15 years, Mester has emerged as a star of the Baltimore food scene, his career evolving from culinary-school drop-out to cook at revered restaurants like Woodberry Kitchen to owner of the nationally lauded Le Comptoir du Vin in Station North—along the way mastering his own singular style: a simple yet sophisticated ode to European country cooking.

And yet despite his success, he’s grown increasingly estranged from the fast-paced, fad-crazed fuss of the hospitality industry, and it’s clear that here, in this dimly lit bar—chatting with patrons over pints of Guinness, grabbing fresh eggs from the wicker basket for the day’s omelet, handing plates over the pass to his wife, Millie Powell, a seasoned maître d’ who runs the front-of-house—he is, by all measures, in his element.

“It was the right place at the right time,” says Mester on a Monday off at the end of March, after a weekend of whipping up homemade terrine, smoked haddock, and a nettle soup for early spring.

And that right time was the weekend after Thanksgiving in 2023, when veteran bartender Adam Estes introduced him to this rowhome building, back when it was still the hole-in-the-wall Scotch bar, Birds of a Feather, known for strong pours and an eclectic crowd over its 40-odd years. The owner was ready to sell and, by the following spring, Mester bought the place with Powell and Comptoir co-owner Rosemary Liss, who assists with business operations at The Wren.

For them, it was a no-brainer—this circa-1890 stalwart being one of the last of old Fells Point, as longtime spaces have been gutted for modern tastes, like The Wharf Rat, or outright closed, like Bertha’s Mussels.

Here, details from the past remain, like the tin ceiling, oak bar, terracotta tiles, and back-lounge fireplace, alongside fresh coats of paint, a new draft beer system, and a shiny backsplash behind Mester’s prep station.

The Wren is warm, intimate, and in many ways, out of time—no QR codes, no Spotify soundtracks, no reservations or even table service—which is what makes it so transportive. The night slows. The record player crackles. With a Rob Roy in hand on one of the 20 wooden barstools, just two blocks from the Baltimore harbor, you could very well be in a pub off the English Channel or, more specifically, the Irish Sea.

TWO BLOCKS FROM THE BALTIMORE HARBOR, YOU COULD VERY WELL BE IN A PUB OFF THE IRISH SEA.

Powell is a Dublin native, who met Mester there through Liss one summer, on an open-water swim no less. Undoubtedly their partnership, and years of travel for Mester, informed the strong desire to open a pub—the kind of place in Ireland that serves not just as a drinking den but also a vital third space outside of work and home for the local community.

“They are one of the only public spaces left where anything deep or interesting happens,” says Mester. “You need a place that’s democratic, that everyone can go to, that everyone can afford to go to, with some degree of frequency, where people aren’t going to hold your hand and walk you through what the concept is. You go just for a very basic need, to connect with people.”

And it might sound sacrilege, but food isn’t even necessary, he adds. That said, if you visit, we highly recommend having something to eat.

Despite the humble approach, Mester is a meticulous chef, imbuing intention into every detail and ingredient. On the eve of April, a thick slice of black pudding (aka blood sausage, imported from Ireland) came out extra crispy with a sage-fried egg and smokey-sweet “brown sauce,” made of winter fruit and warming spices—imagine the best scrapple you’ve ever had.

Tender pork cheeks also swam in a nourishing broth with bright turnips, sweet sauteed chard, and salty slivers of bacon. And a savory pot of lentils was saddled with sausage from Ostrowski’s, just up Ann Street. Even the basics are blissful, like a gorgeous green salad, swirled in Dijon vinaigrette with a dash of nutmeg, and the Ovenbird Bakery bread, which arrives with an almost indecent slather of Kerrygold butter and a proper pinch of flake salt.

Tuesday through Saturday, the chalkboard menu features a dozen daily dishes, all rooted in the rustic and resourceful pantry of pastoral Europe, inspired by seasons and history.

“It’s what we like to eat,” says Powell, which she calls “good, honest, comforting, classic” food, and that includes her homemade desserts, like apple cakes with vanilla custard and baked-to-order madeleines, each tinged with a touch of nostalgia. “So much of cooking back home, it’s almost like folk tradition—in that things are passed down.”

Much like this pub, which keeps the candle burning for its ever-changing neighborhood. Old regulars return, while newcomers amble in, perhaps to hear an Orioles game on the radio, or catch a set of traditional Irish music, or try a hand at the weekly dart league, or shoot the breeze with Estes, who now runs the bar, its inventory stocked with leftover Scotch from Birds of a Feather.

If you look closely, a tiny taxidermied creature keeps watch behind him. The Wren was named in part after a Celtic tradition,  based on the ancient myth that this unsung but savvy songbird once outsmarted the eagle to be crowned the king of all fowl.

On Aliceanna, this old-soul watering hole proves that small can mean mighty, too.

THE WREN: 1712 Aliceanna St. HOURS: Tues.-Sat. 3 p.m.-10:30 p.m.; dinner starting at 5:30 p.m. PRICES: Appetizers, $5-18; entrees, $20 38; desserts, $14-20. AMBIANCE: Classic pub.

When the weather gets warm enough in the Land of Pleasant Living, an inevitable thirst emerges. Not for any particular can of beer, mind you. Not even an ice-cold Natty Boh. Instead, it’s our state’s undisputed drink of summer—the one and only orange crush.

And this year, Governor Wes Moore made it official, rightfully designating this strong, citrusy, ice-cold nectar of the gods as Maryland’s state cocktail, come June 1.

Which is no surprise. All across the state, and now even up and down the East Coast, there are fans of this refreshingly bittersweet drink, made with citrus-flavored vodka, fresh-squeezed citrus juice, a triple sec-style liqueur, and lemon-lime soda over ice—like Maryland’s tastier screwdriver. And for at least the last 40 years now, Ocean City has been the drink’s epicenter, and in many ways, where it all began.

“It’s a rite of passage,” say Mike Strawley, co-owner of The Bearded Clam on Wicomico Street, declared by many as the original home of the orange crush. “We’ve been around long enough that people’s kids are coming in now, getting the same crushes that their parents drank.”

There’s debate over the origin story of the orange crush, of course. West Ocean City’s Harborside Bar & Grill claims to be the “home of the original” since 1993, serving “well over a million of them,” says co-owner Chris Wall. Meanwhile, many locals believe that Strawley’s circa-’78 bar was the first to serve some version.

Back in the ’40s, his grandparents started slinging “squeezers” at their original establishment, just up the seaboard in Cape May, New Jersey. When his dad took over the business and moved down to the Maryland beaches, and Ocean City, he brought the tradition with him, with fading Kodachrome photographs of the early Clam showing the same hanging fruit baskets and steel juicers still used in the bar today.

“I never asked how they came to be, because they were just always there,” says Strawley, 56, who learned the recipe on day one as a barback at age 19. “I can make them in my sleep.”

The ingredients are simple, and largely the same from bar to bar, but perfecting the ratio is somewhat of an art form. Too much triple sec? The drink’s too sweet. Too much soda? It’s too weak. Fresh juice is always key, hence halves of fruit being squeezed to order, with the Clam moving through more cases of citrus than it cares to count.

And then there’s the technique, often inducing a Pavlov’s dog-like reaction in onlookers, who then generally can’t help but order one. “You can’t not love the show,” says Wall.

These days, there are also grapefruit crushes, and half-and-halfs with both juices, and “skinny” versions that swap Sprite for club soda. Some places like Seacret’s and Fish Tales even blend them into frozen drinks. But every iteration, as the name implies, is often dangerously easy to drink.

“A lot of people come in for one before they even check into their hotels,” says Strawley. “It tastes like vacation.”

Oh, and in a town run on Natural Light—aka “Delmarva champagne”—the Clam also keeps a steady supply of Natty Boh in stock for its bevy of Baltimore patrons.

“People get excited to see it, I can tell you that,” says Strawley. “We’ve had it so long, it’s cool again.”

Whether you’re downy ocean or hanging at home this summer, here are a few of our fresh-squeezed faves:

Ocean City

• The Bearded Clam, 15 Wicomico St.
• Harborside Bar & Grill, 12841 Harbor Rd.
• Mackey’s, 5311 Coastal Hwy.
• M.R. Ducks Bar & Grill, 311 Talbot St.
• The Wedge, 806 S. Atlantic Ave.

Baltimore

• Mama’s on the Half Shell, 2901 O’Donnell St.
• Thames Street Oyster House, 1728 Thames St.
• Hard Yacht Cafe, 8500 Cove Rd.
• Nick’s Fish House, 2600 Insulator Dr.
• Section 771, 504 Washington Blvd.

This piece originally ran in our June 2024 cover story, “Greetings From Ocean City,” which you can explore, here. 

Throughout the week, across the flowering green from City Hall, dozens of artists have been hauling canvases, frames, and sculptures up the marble steps of the Baltimore War Memorial in preparation for Artscape.

For the first time in its 43-year history, the city’s annual free arts festival has relocated from the Station North and Mid-Town Belvedere neighborhoods to the heart of downtown, also moving from its notoriously hot and wet late-summer dates to Memorial Day Weekend, in hopes of better weather.

Also new this year is the inaugural Scout Art Fair, taking place inside this historic Gay Street monument rain or shine throughout the weekend, starting with a sold-out preview night on Thursday, May 22, and running through Sunday, May 25.

Curated by acclaimed artist and Baltimore native Derrick Adams with Baltimore Beat arts-and-culture editor Teri Henderson, the building’s neo-classical atrium and Italian travertine floors have been transformed into an exhibition hall featuring works by more than 40 artists.

“It’s a beautiful showcase of what artists in Baltimore are making right now,” says Henderson, also an independent curator, formerly of BmoreArt’s Connect+Collect Gallery.

From more than 100 applicants, she and Adams pulled together a cohort of artists across a range of disciplines, including sculptor Murjoni Merriweather, photographer Isaiah Winters, painter Charles Mason III, collage artist Bria Sterling, and collaborators Wickerham & Lomax, among many more.

Eleven local partners, ranging from galleries, community organizations, and nonprofits—including the likes of Creative Alliance, Current Space, Good Neighbor, and Islam & Print—will also be in tow, with their group exhibitions located around the room’s perimeter. Altogether, the Scout Art Fair will highlight not only the talents of individual artists, but also the collective cultural landscape of Baltimore.

“It’s showing people a lot of what this city has to offer all in one room,” says Adams, who dreamed up the event with childhood friend Tonya Miller Hall, now senior advisor for the city’s Office of Arts & Culture, in hopes that platforms like this will help further promote the prominence of the local art scene—not only within the city’s own sense of identity, but also its perception nationally and internationally.

“Baltimore has no shortage of creative communities, or local support within them,” says Adams, “but broader visibility has always been a bigger challenge for the city—letting people know that Baltimore, on more of a world stage, is a city to consider for creative exchange—which I think artists need in order to really thrive in their career here.”

Adams knows this first-hand, having gained success outside of his hometown, including international exhibitions from London to Hong Kong, works being added to permanent collections at the The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, and representation by the illustrious Gagosian in Los Angeles. But in recent years, he has started investing back into the city, from opening The Last Resort Artist Retreat in Upper Waverly to curating the new Inviting Light installation initiative in Station North.

Which is why this fair is not just for local artists to show their works, but sell them, too, with Adams and Henderson hoping to draw collectors from near and far—and of all backgrounds. Artworks are priced affordably between $150 and $5,000, with a portion of the sale proceeds benefitting programs from the Baltimore Office of Promotion & The Arts (BOPA), which serves as the event’s co-host alongside Mayor Brandon Scott’s Downtown RISE Initiative.

“Part of our mission is expanding what people think a collector looks like,” says Henderson, who has collected works by the local likes of Safiyah Cheatam, Lexie Mountain, and the I. Henry Photo Project, while Adams’ Last Resort is full of screenprints by Tom Miller, portraits by Devin N. Morris, and paintings by McKinley Wallace III. “Everyone can collect. And it’s about building relationships with artists over time—maybe for some people starting with more moderately priced works before building up to buying something larger later down the line.”

Adams sees the practice of collecting art as an intentional commitment to an artist’s craft and livelihood, as well as an invaluable contribution to human culture and community-building—on both small and large scales.

“Collecting is an act of stewardship . . . protecting works for the future and really seeing art as a part of history and a part of culture that needs to be preserved,” he says, noting that, for some prospective collectors, the Scout Art Fair will be an opportunity to begin supporting artists from the earliest evolutions of their careers. At the same time, potential museum curators or gallery representatives might also use the fair to discover new artists to exhibit.

Admission is free and hours are Friday from 1 to 6 p.m., Saturday from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m., and Sunday from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. In addition to showcasing and selling art, the event will feature other programming, including the Scout Soiree on Friday night from 8:30 to 11 p.m. at the Hotel Ulysses Swann House. There is also a planned curatorial talk on site at the War Memorial between Adams and Henderson on Saturday at 1:30 p.m., as well as two Center Stage panel discussions featuring Adams on Saturday at 3:30 p.m., with BmoreArt’s Cara Ober, and on Sunday at 2 p.m., with actor Kofi Siriboe.

If all goes well, the curators hope this might grow into an annual event—if not evolve into something akin to the New York’s Armory Show or Miami’s Art Basel.

“I would love that,” says Adams. “This is really the launch.”

“Any opportunity for artists to show their work is critical, and as they set up, I’m hearing from them that they are really excited,” adds Henderson, as each stall’s white walls are hung with an impressive and colorful array of creations in anticipation of the weekend ahead. “The goal is to elevate Baltimore—to share with the world that it is, as we all know here, this world-class city of artists.”

The crowd came in from every direction. From the northwest, they scrambled down the hillside from The Baltimore Museum of Art. To the east, they shimmied up the old oak trees near Charles Street. Looking south, from pit to playground across the 16-acre Wyman Park Dell, there were people—reportedly more than 10,000—literally as far as the eye could see.

Whether new fans or longtime followers, they were all packed in to catch a free pop-up concert from Turnstile—the local hardcore band that cut their chops on the city’s underground scene before skyrocketing to national stardom in recent years. They’ve been nominated for Grammys, performed Tiny Desk concerts, filled arenas alongside the likes of Blink-182, and become “one of the most popular punk bands of [their] era,” as The New York Times just put it.

Though by all evidence, beneath an almost full moon on a high-spring Saturday night in Charles Village, it was clear they haven’t forgotten where they come from. And Baltimore certainly hadn’t, either, though the deeply diverse crowd—old-head punks, Hopkins students, teens in the band’s T-shirts, moshers in bikinis or dressed up in banana costumes, parents with earmuffed babies on their shoulders—hailed from near and far.

As the band launched in with the new title track off their forthcoming fourth album, Never Enough (out on June 6 via Roadrunner Records), a pool-size mosh pit had already swirled into formation, and within the first few lyrics, an endless succession of stage-divers—including a few impossibly cool children—started to lap up and leap off the temporary platform with its colorfully paneled backdrop, surfing with euphoric abandon across the open arms of sweat-covered strangers. At one point, the pandemonium even shook one of the speakers loose, causing them to briefly halt the show.

It was a super-size version of their surprise show at the Clifton Park Bandshell four years ago, now with a whole new context—their musical ascendance seeming like some sort of testament to not only their talents, but the city, too, and its DIY spirit.

“We’re just so happy to be home,” said frontman Brendan Yates halfway through the show, thanking the audience and crew before howling into the opening of “Don’t Play,” off their 2021 breakthrough album, Glow On, as bassist Franz Lyons ripped across the stage.

Produced by Baltimore’s own Unregistered Nurse Booking, with a local team of several dozen helping with everything from sound to security, the show served as a benefit concert for Health Care for the Homeless, with QR codes posted around the park for pay-what-you-can donations. More than $35,000 was raised by Monday afternoon, which will go toward a variety of services for individuals who are unhoused, from health and dental care to therapy and substance abuse treatment. For their 40th anniversary, the non-profit hopes to raise an additional $5,000, or more, in the coming days.

At the end of Turnstile’s roughly hour-long set, after careening through their final song, “Birds,” also off Never Enough, the music fell into an ambient hum. Guitarist Pat McCrory gave high-fives to fans. Drummer Daniel Fang threw out a stash of drumsticks. Yates flipped into the crowd, and before long, Meg Mills, the band’s new guitarist from the UK, did, too.

“Holy shit,” chanted those lingering in the front row, as the band walked off and the crew began to break down the stage.

Eventually, the crowd ambled back out of the Dell—in some sort of awestruck daze, fanatically recounting the evening, a fever dream—into the Baltimore night.

5/2-31: ASIA NORTH
Festivals. Artscape might have left Station North—it moved downtown, with new dates on May 24-25—but another festival in Baltimore’s first arts-and-culture district is getting bigger and better every year. This entire month, head toward Penn Station for the fifth annual Asia North. Taking place from May 2-31, in honor of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, this sprawling celebration of Asian culture highlights the neighborhood’s rich history as an unofficial Koreatown, as well as the city’s ever-growing melting pot of Eastern identities.

Presented by Towson University’s Asian Arts & Cultural Center and the Central Baltimore Partnership, and located across multiple venues, the festivities include art exhibitions, dance performances, live music, and lots of authentic fare. Snag a coveted seat at a traditional Filipino kamayan feast. See the imaginative movements of a Chinese dragon parade. Swing through various North Avenue galleries to view the vibrant artworks of “Exceeds Expectations,” curated by local painter Phaan Howng. Attend a walking tour of Koreatown landmarks, a panel on Asian-American history, and a late-night karaoke party while you’re at it, too, with opening and closing events not to miss.

5/1: ELDA ROTOR: WHAT MAKES A CLASSIC
Lectures & Classes. The Penguin Classics publisher speaks about the works she has brought to readers, including new editions of Jane Austen. Goucher College, Merrick Lecture Hall, 1021 Dulaney Valley Rd., Towson. 4 p.m. Free. 

5/1: SIP AND STEMS: FLOWER ARRANGING WORKSHOP
Lectures & Classes. With blooms from Dancing Dox Farms, create your own miniature bouquets while sipping on free wine and refreshments. Maryland Center for History & Culture, 610 Park Ave. 6 p.m. $10. 

5/1: CHRISTOPHER CHESTER & MICAH E. WOOD
Lectures & Classes. Local artists Christopher Chester and Micah E. Wood discuss their collaboration on the book “Scene Seen: Baltimore Band Portraits 2016–2024.⁠” Enoch Pratt Free Library, 400 Cathedral St. 6-7:30 p.m. Free.

5/1: DAPHNE ECKMAN
Music. This Annapolis-based indie folk singer-songwriter performs with special guests Eyas and JOBIE. Ottobar, 2549 N. Howard St. 7 p.m. $26.31. 

5/1: A CONVERSATION WITH TA-NEHISI COATES
Lectures & Classes. This bestselling author and Baltimore native speaks with local historians on myths of politics, history, and social change. Morgan State University, Carl J. Murphy Fine Arts Center, 2201 Argonne Dr. 7 p.m. Free.

5/1-3: MS. LISA FISCHER & GRAND BATON
Music. This legendary backup vocalist for icons like Tina Turner and the Rolling Stones, performs her own version of classic songs with a jazzy flare. Keystone Korner, 1350 Lancaster St. Thurs. 7 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 6 & 9 p.m. $50-60.

5/1-4: BALTIMORE STORY FEST
Theater. Join some of the region’s best storytellers for four days of tales about different daily themes. Theatre Project, 45 W Preston St. Thurs-Sat. 8 p.m., Sun. 4 p.m. $25. 

TO 5/2: WELCOME TO THE MILK FACTORY
Exhibitions. This group show examines themes of fertility, motherhood, the societal value of women’s labor, and the objectification of the female body. Gallery CA, 440 E. Oliver St. Mon.-Fri. 12-4 p.m. galleryca.org. Free.

TO 5/2: ENAMELING REIMAGINED
Exhibitions. Browse the artwork of Rachel Kedinger, whose cabinet-esque display showcases many forms of vintage enamelware that have been given a new life. Baltimore Jewelry Center, 10 E. North Ave. Mon.-Tues. 1-10 p.m., Wed.-Thurs. 10 a.m.-10 p.m., Fri. 10 a.m.-3 p.m., Sat.-Sun. 12-6 p.m. Free.

5/2: ADULT PROM: DISCO RODEO
Dance. Get a second chance at prom at this western-themed evening of dancing with an open bar, appetizers, zoo animal appearances, and more. The Maryland Zoo, 1 Safari Pl. 7-11 p.m. $30-100.

5/2-3: FLOWER MART
Festivals. Shop for flowers, plants, handmade crafts, and delicious foods like the event’s signature lemon stick treat. Mount Vernon Place, 699 Washington Pl. 11 a.m.-8 p.m. Free.

5/2 & 5/4: ALBERT HERRING
Theater. Benjamin Britten’s hilarious opera follows Albert, a shy grocer’s son, who is crowned the King of the May. The Engineers Club, 11 W. Mount Vernon Pl. Fri. 7:30-10 p.m., Sat. 3-6 p.m. $32-82. 

TO 5/3: FEARFULLY AND WONDERFULLY MADE
Exhibitions. This new collection of work by Jerrell Gibbs centers on Black dancers to uproot persistent body shaming and prejudice in ballet. Galerie Myrtis, 2224 N. Charles St. Thurs.-Sat. 2-6 p.m. Free.

5/3: LADEW GARDEN FESTIVAL
Festivals. Shop from 40 exclusive vendors for specialty plants, garden ornaments, antiques, and more. Ladew Gardens, 3535 Jarrettsville Pke., Monkton. 8 a.m.-4 p.m. $15-75. 

5/3: KINETIC SCULPTURE RACE
Exhibitions. Watch as wacky human-powered contraptions careen across a 15-mile race through land, harbor waters, sand, and mud. American Visionary Art Museum, 800 Key Hwy. 9:30 a.m. Participants pay $10-75. Free.

5/3: IRVINE SPRINGFEST
Festivals. Welcome the spring season with a day full of family-friendly outdoor activities like scavenger hunts, flower planting, spring-themed games, and more. Irvine Nature Center, 11201 Garrison Forest Rd., Owings Mills. 10 a.m.-12 p.m. $10-15.

5/3: LINOCUT BLOCK PRINTING WORKSHOP
Lectures & Classes. Artist and printmaker Nikita Yogaraj teaches the basic techniques of linocut block printing, with participants making up to four prints. Homewood Museum, 3400 N. Charles St. 12-2:30 p.m. $55-60. 

5/3: CLAYWORKS GARDEN PARTY GALA
Fundraisers & Galas. Commemorate 45 years of Baltimore Clayworks with lunch, ceramics exhibitions, live music, and a special presentation. Baltimore Clayworks, 5707 Smith Ave. 12-2 p.m. $45-1800. 

5/3: EARTHENWORKS COMMUNITY DAY
Festivals. Celebrate the new Sacred Place Garden with a groundbreaking and dedication ceremony at Baltimore Clayworks, followed by the chance to make your own garden globe from natural clay and seeds. Baltimore Clayworks, 5707 Smith Ave. 2-4 p.m. Free.

5/3: OLD PRO OPEN
Festivals. For the eighth year, Union Craft Brewing teams up with Old Pro Golf for a mini-golf tournament with all-you-can-drink Union beer. Old Pro Golf, 6801 Coastal Hwy., Ocean City. 3-6 p.m. $28.25.

5/3: SPRING ATP
Music. At this mini music festival, local cover bands play “ten-minute-one-time-only-band productions.” Current Space, 421 N. Howard St. 6 p.m. $15-17. 

5/3: GRATEFUL SHRED
Music. Jam out to live music from this Los Angeles-based Grateful Dead cover band. Union Craft Brewing, 1700 W. 41st St. 7-11 p.m. $30.69. 

5/3: POSITIVELY 84TH STREET
Music. In honor of Bob Dylan’s 84th birthday, tribute band The Complete Unknowns leads a night of live music featuring several other artists. Creative Alliance, 3134 Eastern Ave. 7:30 p.m. $35. 

5/3-4: BE A HERO: GALAXY REBELS
Exhibitions. A weekend of intergalactic fun with activities ranging from building a laser sword to hero training. Port Discovery, 35 Market Pl. Sat. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Sun. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Free-$25.95.

5/3-4: BRAHMS SYMPHONY NO.1 WITH HEYWARD
Music. Music director Jonathan Heyward presents his own version of Brahms First Symphony featuring a new Cello Concerto by Joshua Roman. Joseph Meyerhoff Symphony Hall, 1212 Cathedral St. Sat. 7 p.m., Sun. 3 p.m. $27-99. 

TO 5/4: KEEPERS
Exhibitions. Explore a visual dialogue between two iconic African Modernism artists, Gabriel Tenabe and James Phillips. New Door Creative, 1601 St. Paul St. Hours by appointment. Free.

TO 5/4: MICA GRAD SHOW III
Exhibitions. Several events and showcases highlight MFA and MA student works across various mediums, including events, film screenings, installations. MICA, 1300 W. Mount Royal Ave. Times vary. 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Free.

5/6-11: SOME LIKE IT HOT
Theater. Set in Chicago during the prohibition, this Tony Award-winning musical follows the story of two musicians on the run from a mob of gangsters. Hippodrome Theatre, 12 N. Eutaw St. Times vary. $58-148. 

5/8: SHADOWS OF THE SOUL
Lectures & Classes. Transdisciplinary artist Hope McCorkle offers a workshop on self-love, collage, and reflective journaling, inspired by her recent solo exhibition. Creative Alliance, 3134 Eastern Ave. 6 p.m. $25-30. 

5/8: ARTIST PHAAN HOWNG
Lectures & Classes. Hear from accomplished local artist, whose work explores what she calls an “optimistic post-apocalypse.” Towson University Center for the Arts, 7700 Osler Dr., Towson. 6:30 p.m. Free,

5/8: REGINALD F. LEWIS MUSEUM 20TH ANNIVERSARY GALA
Fundraisers & Galas. Celebrate 20 years of highlighting Maryland’s Black art, history, and culture, featuring a special performance by “The Voice” finalist and Maryland native Davon Fleming. M&T Bank Exchange, 401 W. Fayette St. 7-11 p.m. $350.

5/8: STOOP STORIES: LOOK FOR THE HELPERS
Theater. Join Stoop Storytelling to hear tales about local first responders, caregivers, and unexpected heroes. Creative Alliance, 3134 Eastern Ave. 7 p.m. $35.

5/8: SENIOR SHOW
Exhibitions. Towson University seniors showcase their work across multiple tracks, including painting, sculpture, graphic design, illustration, and more disciplines. Towson University Center for the Arts, 7700 Osler Dr., Towson.  7:30-9 p.m. Free.

5/8: SHE DID THAT
Dance. Join Full Circle Dance Company for a workshop exploring ancestry, courage, and capacity through movement, music, storytelling, and more. Morton Street Dance Center, 3600 Clipper Mill Rd. 7:30 p.m. Registration required. Free.

5/9: BEYOND THE STAGE
Music. Join the Baltimore Choral Arts Society for their yearly gala with dinner, a live auction, pop-up performances, and immersive exhibits. M&T Bank Exchange, 401 W. Fayette St. 6 p.m. $300. 

5/9-11: BIRDING WEEKEND
Festivals. Embark on an entire weekend of birdwatching to scope out native birds in sanctuaries, parks, and the Maryland Zoo. Locations vary. Fri. & Sun. 8-11 a.m., Sat. 7-11 a.m. $30-50. 

5/9-6/6: SUPERHEROES REIMAGINED
Exhibitions. This show invites artists to design original superhero characters who challenge traditional notions of heroism. Waller Gallery, 2420 N. Calvert St. Sat. 1-5 p.m. by appt. Free.

5/9-31: LEMPIRA
Theater. Baltimore Rock Opera Society’s first bilingual production follows the fight against western imperialism by the Lenca people of modern Honduras and El Salvador. Zion Church of the City of Baltimore, 400 E. Lexington St. Times vary. $32.

5/10: CYLBURN MARKET DAY
Festivals. Upgrade your garden and check out local artisans at this beloved annual event featuring plant and gift vendors, kid activities, food, and more. Cylburn Arboretum, 4915 Greenspring Ave. 8 a.m.-2 p.m. Free.

5/10: REMFEST
Festivals. This beloved local street fair hosts 80 local vendors and non-profits, local food, and live music performances in Remington. Remington Ave. 12-9 p.m. Free.

5/10: LAWRENCE P. JACKSON
Lectures & Classes. This lauded local writer and professor discusses his memoir ,“Shelter,” which explores the complexities of returning to the area and navigating a life that is different from his childhood in West Baltimore. Enoch Pratt Free Library, 5108 Roland Ave. 3-4 p.m. Registration required. Free.

5/10: BE A HERO
Fundraisers & Galas. In support of LifeBridge Health’s Center for Hope, enjoy a rock-and-roll themed night of cocktails, dinner, a live auction, and a performance from Grammy-nominated alternative rock band Gin Blossoms. M&T Bank Stadium, 1101 Russell St. 5-10 p.m. $350. 

5/10: LET ALL THE WORLD SING
Music. The Deer Creek Chorale, Patterson Park Chamber Choir, and Goucher Choral Society come together for this concert. Goucher College, Kraushaar Auditorium, 1021 Dulaney Valley Rd., Towson. 7 p.m. $10-25.

5/10: YOUNG PLAYWRIGHTS FESTIVAL
Theater. Every year, aspiring playwrights across the state submit their short plays, up to six of which are selected to be transformed into professional productions. Baltimore Center Stage, 700 N. Calvert St. Times & prices vary. 

5/10-11: THE PREAKNESS SHOWCASE
Exhibitions. With Preakness right around the corner, get in the spirit with a weekend of ponies, Maryland-inspired art projects, local music, and interactive activities. Port Discovery, 35 Market Pl. Sat. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Sun. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Free-$25.95.

5/10-11: BALTIMORE LITHUANIAN FESTIVAL
Festivals. Celebrate Baltic heritage with arts and crafts, authentic food and drink, historical exhibits, and traditional folk-dance performances. Lithuanian Hall, 851 Hollins St. Sat. 11 a.m.-11 p.m., Sun. 11 a.m.-6 p.m. Free-$10.

5/14: ORCHKIDS SPRING CELEBRATION
Music. Students of the BSO’s community youth program perform in a variety of large ensembles from string to brass band. Joseph Meyerhoff Symphony Hall, 1212 Cathedral St. 5:30 p.m. Pay-what-you-wish. 

5/15: BROMO ART WALK
Exhibitions. Experience the Bromo Arts District during this biannual evening tradition featuring open galleries, live performances, imaginative projects, and more. Locations vary. 5-9 p.m. Free.

5/15: AN EVENING OF FLAMENCO
Exhibitions/Dance. Enjoy musical performances by The Flamenco Workshop with percussionist Bruno Lucini and Furia Flamenca dancers inspired by museum works on display. Evergreen Museum and Library, 4545 N. Charles St. 6-8 p.m. $20-25. 

5/15-6/15: JOHN WILKES BOOTH: ONE NIGHT ONLY!
Theater. This performance takes a closer look at Maryland native and presidential assassin who is buried in an unmarked grave less than a mile from the theater. Baltimore Center Stage, 700 N. Calvert St. Times vary. $10-54. 

5/15-6/21: PREAKNESS EXHIBITION
Exhibitions. As part of Preakness’ 150th anniversary, this event will showcase artwork that highlights all aspects of horse culture in Maryland. Maryland Art Place, 218 W. Saratoga St. Tues.-Sat. 12-4 p.m. Free.

5/16-17: PREAKNESS STAKES
Sports. Now in its 150th year, the Middle Jewel of the Triple Crown features the nation’s top thoroughbred horse racing with outdoor spectating and live music. Pimlico Race Course, 5201 Park Heights Ave. Times TBA. $97-3,078. 

5/16-6/8: 10X10X10 PLAY FESTIVAL
Theater. This aptly named short play showcase features 10 short plays written by 10 local playwrights, performed by 10 actors. Fells Point Corner Theatre, 251 S. Ann St. Fri.-Sat. 8 p.m., Sun 2 p.m. $24.

5/16-6/21: CLIMAS MALSANOS
Exhibitions. A collection of pieces from Baltimore-based queer Latinx artist Hoesy Corona’s “Climate Immigrants” series that explores the relationship between humans and the environment. Creative Alliance, 3134 Eastern Ave. Tues.-Sat. 12-5 p.m. Free.

TO 5/17: HAUNTED KOREAS
Exhibitions. View the most extensive collection of paintings from global activist artist Mina Cheon’s series of “Unification Dream,” about a unified Korea that serve as peaceful protest. Towson University Center for the Arts, Asian Arts Gallery, 1 Fine Arts Dr., Towson. Mon.-Sat. 11 a.m.-4 p.m. .Free

5/17: BEETHOVEN MISSA SOLEMNIS
Music. For the first time in 30 years, see Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis performed by an impressive gathering of orchestra musicians. Baltimore Basilica, 409 Cathedral St. 3 p.m. $10-65. Free.

5/17: SUSAN MUADDI DARRAJ
Classes & Lectures. Journalist Baynard Woods speaks with this local author about her recent book, “Behind You is the Sea,” which follows multiple families through the Palestinian-American experience in Baltimore. Enoch Pratt Free Library, 5910 Harford Rd. 3-4 p.m. Registration required. Free.

5/17: BLACK CHERRY PUPPET SLAMWICH
Theater. Enjoy an evening of short form puppetry acts for adults featuring a musical guest. Current Space, 421 N. Howard St. 5 & 8 p.m. $12-15. 

TO 5/17: VESTIGES OF TIME: TRACES IN LIGHT AND MATERIALS
Exhibitions. View installations by metal sculpturist and artist John Ruppert. C. Grimaldis Gallery, 523 N. Charles St. Wed-Sat. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Free. 

5/17-8/17: COLAB: ART AND MUSIC FROM BALTIMORE AND BEYOND
Exhibitions. View a collection of works on loan from important collections of African-American art and artists that will be paired with musical compositions selected by the Peabody Institute. Eubie Blake Cultural Center, 847 N. Howard St. Tues.-Sat. 11 a.m.-6 p.m. Free.

5/17-ONGOING: LATIN AMERICAN ART/ARTE LATINOAMERICANO
Exhibitions. For the first time, see over 200 artworks from the museum’s collection from South, Central, and North America and the Caribbean in one space. The Walters Art Museum, 600 N. Charles St. Wed.-Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Thurs. 1-8 p.m. Free.

TO 5/18: MARY STUART
Theater. This new translation of Friedrich Schiller’s original depicts the rivalry between Mary Queen of Scots and Elizabeth I. Chesapeake Shakespeare Company, 7 S. Calvert St. Times vary. $25-69.

5/18: SING FOR JOY!
Music. The Baltimore Choral Arts Society presents Felix Mendelssohn’s “Lobgesang,” Reena Esmail’s “See Me,” and the choral finale from Beethoven’s 9th symphony. Cathedral of Mary Our Queen, 5200 N. Charles St. 3 p.m. Free-$50. 

5/18: GISELLE, ACT II
Dance. The Baltimore Ballet performs this 1841 work ased on a legend about ghosts of unmarried girls who emerge at night to seek revenge on the living. Goucher College, Kraushaar Auditorium, 1021 Dulaney Valley Rd., Towson. 4 p.m. $25-35. 

5/18: BSYO CONCERT
Music. The Baltimore Symphony Youth Orchestra performs two shows, featuring string, philharmonic, and concert groups. Joseph Meyerhoff Symphony Hall, 1212 Cathedral St. 6:30 & 8 p.m. $5-20.

5/18-6/22: THE MYSTERY OF IRMA VEP
Theater. This comedy follows two actors playing over eight roles each with more than 30 costume changes. Everyman Theatre, 315 W. Fayette St. Times vary. $5-86. 

5/18-9/21: BLACK EARTH RISING
Exhibitions. This showcase contains paintings, sculptures, films, and other creative works by artists of color and Native identity that explore our complex connection to nature. Baltimore Museum of Art, 10 Art Museum Dr. Wed.-Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Thurs. 10 a.m.-9 p.m. $5-10. 

5/19-30: SCREEN PAINTING EXHIBIT
Exhibitions. The Painted Screen Society’s pop-up exhibit features authentic screen paintings true to Baltimorean tradition, as well as demos, an evening sip & paint, and a children’s workshop. B&O Railroad Museum, 901 W. Pratt St. 10 a.m.-4 p.m. $12-20. 

TO 5/22: SOLEDAD SALAMÉ: CAMOUFLAGE
Exhibitions. This artist teams up scientists and ecologists to create informed reflections of fast fashion and pollution through mixed medium works. Goya Contemporary, 3000 Chestnut Ave. Tues.-Fri. 10 a.m.-6 p.m., Sat. 12-4 p.m. Free.

5/22-25: DELFEST
Festivals. Baltimore bluegrass fans love to flock to Western Maryland on Memorial Day Weekend to hear dozens of bands like Sierra Ferrell and the festival’s namesake Del McCoury Band. Allegany County Fairgrounds, 11490 Moss Ave., Cumberland. Thurs. 3:30 p.m., Fri.-Sun. 10 a.m. $25-499.50.

5/23: FOR THE LOVE OF IT ALL ALBUM RELEASE PARTY
Music. Celebrate local trumpet sensation Brandon Woody’s new album, “For the Love of it All.” Current Space, 421 N. Howard St. 7-11 p.m. $20-25. 

TO 5/24: 2025 BAKER ARTIST AWARD SHOWCASE
Exhibitions. Enjoy an exhibition of works by finalists in the visual and interdisciplinary arts disciplines of this prestigious annual awards. Current Space, 421 N. Howard St. Sat. 1-5 p.m. Free.

TO 5/24: COMMUNITY ARTS SPRING SHOWCASE
Exhibitions. Celebrate the talented Baltimore Clayworks’ Community Arts students with a collection of their artwork on display. Baltimore Clayworks, 5707 Smith Ave. Tues.-Sat. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Mon.-Wed. 12-5 p.m. Free.

5/24: ANNUAL SHERWOOD TULIP DIG
Outdoors. Come with a shovel to dig up your very own tulip bulbs to take home. Sherwood Gardens, 4310 Underwood Rd. 7 a.m.-11 p.m. Free. 

5/24: STURGILL SIMPSON
Music. This Grammy Award-winning Americana musician performs in Columbia. Merriweather Post Pavilion, 10475 Little Patuxent Pkwy., Columbia. 8 p.m. $59.50-149.50.

5/24-25: BREW AT THE ZOO
Food & Drink. Choose from unlimited drinks samples as you encounter zoo animals, play games, listen to live music, and munch on food-truck food. The Maryland Zoo, 1 Safari Pl. 1-7 p.m. $40-235.

5/24-25: ARTSCAPE
Festivals. The city’s annual free arts festival moves downtown and to a new date with hundreds of vendors and artists, local food, immersive installations, and live music performances from artists including Robin Thicke and Little Brother. Locations & prices vary. Free.

5/25: SOWEBOFEST
Festivals. This beloved annual Southwest Baltimore street festival features over 80 vendors, kids’ activities, live music performances, and more in Hollins Market. Historic Hollins Market, 1100 Hollins St. 12-8 p.m. Free.

5/29: BALTIMORE’S CULINARY HISTORY
Lectures & Classes. Kara Mae Harris, the author of the Maryland-centric food blog “Old Line Plate,” discusses Baltimore’s food traditions. Homewood Museum, 3400 N. Charles St. 5:30-6:30 p.m. $5-7.

5/30: MUSIC UNDER THE DOME: DAVID BOWIE
Music. Blast off into outer space with Ziggy Stardust as you embark on an immersive planetarium journey set to David Bowie’s greatest hits. Maryland Science Center, 601 Light St. 7-10 p.m. $35. 

5/30-6/1: THE LOST WEEKEND
Festivals. This three-day literary festival features new titles for your reading list and appearances by authors like Susan Choi, Yrsa Daley-Ward, and more. Greedy Reads, 320 W. 29th St. Times vary. Free.

5/30-6/1: FEAST OF ST. ANTHONY ITALIAN FESTIVAL
Festivals. Bring the family to this street festival celebrating Italian culture with wine, food, games, and a traditional street procession on Sunday. Little Italy, Stiles & Exeter Sts. Fri. 6-9 p.m., Sat.-Sun. 11 a.m.-7 p.m. Free-$5. 

5/30-6/15: BROWN SUGAR BAKE-OFF
Theater. Watch eight original 10-minute plays by Black women and nonbinary playwrights, centered around this year’s mental health theme. Strand Theater, 5426 Harford Rd. Showtimes vary. $12-20. 

5/30-6/22: PICASSO AT THE LAPIN AGILE
Theater. This hilarious show was written by comedy icon Steve Martin, placing Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso in a Parisian cafe in 1904. Vagabond Players, 806 S. Broadway St. Fri-Sat. 8 p.m. Sun. 2 p.m. $21. 

5/31-7/12: EMERGENCE: STORIES IN THE MAKING
Exhibitions. Explore this collection of artworks from emerging artists who explore storytelling within their artistic practices to reflect solidarity, heritage, and social change. Galerie Myrtis, 2224 N. Charles St. Thurs.-Sat. 2-6 p.m. Free.

TO 6/1: TO SAY I WAS HERE
Exhibitions. This multimedia showcase honors the legacies of Jewish immigrant musicians from the early to mid-20th century. Jewish Museum of Maryland, 15 Lloyd St. Sun. 10 a.m.-4 p.m., Mon.-Wed. 12-4 p.m. Free-$10.

TO 6/8: LEAVE NO TRACE
Exhibitions. Examine the impact that the great outdoors had on B&O Railroad head John Work Garrett II through archival photographs, diary entries, artifacts, and more. Evergreen Museum & Library, 4545 N. Charles St. Tues.-Sun. 11 a.m.-2 p.m. Free-$12. 

TO 6/29: TOXIC OVERBURDEN
Exhibitions. This youth-designed collection aims to shed light on Curtis Bay, a South Baltimore community that has faced over 100 years of environmental harm due to the dumping of toxic industrial waste. The Peale, 225 Holliday St. Thurs.-Fri. 3-7 p.m., Sat.-Sun. 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Free.

TO 6/30: SPRING ILLUMINATIONS
Family. Visit the zoo after dark and stroll through dazzling nature-themed lanterns, with Asian-inspired snacks and drinks available for purchase. The Maryland Zoo, 1 Safari Pl. 6-10 p.m. $20-28. Free.

TO 7/20: THE JANET & WALTER SONDHEIM ART PRIZE FINALISTS EXHIBITION
Exhibitions. Artworks from five finalists from this prestigious annual competition will be on view. The Walters Art Museum, 600 N. Charles St. Wed.-Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Thurs. 1-8 p.m. Free.

TO 7/27: WATERSHED
Exhibitions. A curated selection of 40 works from the BMA’s collection explores water and landscape and how they impacted the early modern Dutch Republic. Baltimore Museum of Art, 10 Art Museum Dr., Wed.-Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Thurs. 10 a.m-9 p.m. Free. 

TO 7/27: BAKER ARTIST AWARDS
Exhibitions. View the work of five Baker award winners—Selin Balci, Oletha DeVane, Jordan Tierney, Stephen Towns, and Kelley Bell—all showcasing work rooted in a deep connection to Baltimore’s identity. Baltimore Museum of Art, 10 Art Museum Dr. Wed.-Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Thurs. 10 a.m.-9 p.m. Free. 

TO 8/5: IF BOOKS COULD KILL
Exhibitions. Discover the dangerous materials and techniques used to illustrate ancient manuscripts within the Walters’ vast collection. The Walters Art Museum, 600 N. Charles St. Wed.-Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Thurs. 1-8 p.m. Free.

TO 8/17: EARTH AS MEDIUM: EXTRACTING ART FROM NATURE
Exhibitions. This exhibition’s artworks all have a connection to nature, whether they were made out of natural elements or with sustainable practices. Baltimore Museum of Art, 10 Art Museum Dr. Wed.-Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Thurs. 10 a.m.-9 p.m. Free.

TO 8/31: GOOD SPORTS
Exhibitions. In this new “mega” exhibit, get to the heart of our universal enjoyment of play and celebrate wellness of mind, body, and spirit through works from both local and global visionary artists. American Visionary Art Museum, 800 Key Hwy. Wed.-Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m.

TO 8/31: HISTORY THROUGH POETRY
Exhibitions. New original poems inspired by the Homewood Museum’s period rooms bring the collection’s artifacts to life to honor the lives of the enslaved people who once lived and worked there. Homewood Museum, 3400 N. Charles St. Tues.-Sun. 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Free.

TO 9/1: iWITNESS
Exhibitions. Through artifacts, photographs, and history, this exhibit explores how media impacted the modern American Civil Rights Movement. Reginald F. Lewis Museum, 830 E. Pratt St. Mon., Thurs.-Sat. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Sun. 12-5 p.m. Free-$12. 

TO 9/29: HIGH SCHOOL JURIED ART SHOW: LABOR, LEADERSHIP, AND LEGACY
Exhibitions. This collection honors the legacies of local leaders and entrepreneurs by student artists from all 25 school districts across the state. Reginald F. Lewis Museum, 830 E. Pratt St. Mon. & Thurs.-Sat. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Sun. 12-5 p.m. Free-$12.

TO 10/10: LINDA DAY CLARK
Exhibitions. View the work of Baltimore-born photographer Linda Day Clark, known for artfully capturing the everyday life of African Americans. Morgan State University, James E. Lewis Museum of Art, 2201 Argonne Dr. Tues.-Fri. 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Free.

TO 10/25: STUDIO COMPANION
Exhibitions. See how a simple object became a cherished pet for painter Raoul Middleman in this new exhibit. Raoul Middleman Studio Museum, 943 N. Calvert St. Sat. 2-4 p.m. By appt. Free. 

TO 12/22: BALTIMORE FARMERS MARKET
Festivals. Maryland’s largest farmers market brings the community together with local farms, food vendors, and live performances. Saratoga & Holliday St. Sun. 7 a.m.-12 p.m. Free. 

TO 12/31: COLLECTIVE ACTION
Explore the effort to improve organized labor throughout the 21st century through the stories and experiences of working Baltimoreans. Baltimore Museum of Industry, 1415 Key Hwy. Wed.- Sun., 9 a.m.-4 p.m. Free.

TO 12/31: CROSSCURRENTS
Exhibitions. Spanning various mediums, this year’s Contemporary Wing galleries contain works reflecting everything from environment and ecology to social protest, recuperation, and migration. Baltimore Museum of Art, 10 Art Museum Dr. Wed.-Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Thurs. 10 a.m.-9 p.m. Free.

TO 4/27/26: TITAN
Exhibitions. Through rare photos and artifacts, take an in-depth look into the life of Maryland native Reginald F. Lewis, the first African American to lead a billion-dollar company. Reginald F. Lewis Museum, 830 E. Pratt St. Mon., Thurs.-Sat. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Sun. 12-5 p.m. Free.

Art Space is a recurring element in the UpFront section of our print publication that spotlights a local art project making an impact in the city at large. Here’s what’s going on this month:

There’s no shortage of souvenirs in the Sideshow gift shop of the American Visionary Art Museum. Pins, puzzles postcards. Whoopie cushions, wind-up teeth, and saint candles, featuring a celestial likeness of museum founder Rebecca Hoffberger. And now, in fitting fashion for a venue celebrating outsider art, there is also a growing collection of zines.

Part of a long-held counterculture tradition, including a vibrant scene in Baltimore, these low-budget, limited-circulation, self-published printings are works of art in their own right, offering resources and reassurances for times of need. Submit your own or snag some free copies by the cash register, with topics ranging from gardening and libraries to anti-fascist activism and the LGBTQ+ community.

Last week, spring officially sprung at Old Westminster Winery. Across the rolling hillside, new leaves unfurled on row after row of chardonnay grapevines, while over at the barn-chic tasting room, a multitude of workers milled about—transforming the outdoor dining area’s signature greenhouses into open-air cabanas for warmer days ahead. 

But even bigger changes are underway at the family-run winery in Carroll County, beloved by Baltimoreans and increasingly lauded for putting Maryland wine on the map.

Ten years ago this fall, siblings Drew Baker, Lisa Hinton, and Ashli Johnson opened their 17-acre vineyard to the public, welcoming guests with little more than a pole-barn built by their father, a few picnic tables for wine tastings, and a food truck in the parking lot—“a charming disaster,” quips Baker. But since the COVID-19 pandemic, which shuttered or stunted much of the hospitality industry, they’ve only been growing, now with their 2020 addition of a seasonally inspired, pizza-slinging kitchen serving as many as 1,000 guests on busy weekends. 

And this month, they are debuting several new additions, including a newly expanded kitchen that houses their woodfired pizza ovens, an adjacent new seating area to watch the culinary action, and most notably, a rising-star chef who aims to elevate Old Westminster into one of the Mid-Atlantic’s premiere destinations for not only wine, but food.

“The missing piece in our team was a really talented culinary partner,” says Baker, 37, “someone who understands and aligns with what we’re trying to achieve, to not only provide technical skill and passion, but also have skin in the game. . . . And without hesitation, our sommelier, Joey [Fox], was like, ‘You have to meet Tae Strain.’” 

And there’s a chance you’ve already eaten one of Strain’s meals. The Seoul-born, Howard County-bred chef cut his chops in Baltimore, running the acclaimed Demi restaurant in Belvedere Square—for which we named him “Best New Chef” in 2011—before moving on to even more illustrious gigs, from sous chef at the Michelin-starred Public in New York City to chef de cuisine at the Michelin-starred Progress in San Francisco to executive chef at David Chang’s Momofuku in Washington, D.C.

Most recently, his Ggoma Supper Club pop-up explored his identity as a Korean-American adoptee at locations throughout the city, collaborating with other tastemakers like Ekiben, Foraged, Karma Farm, and JBGB’s. This series is also how he first teamed up with Old Westminster, and in many ways, the rest is history.

“It was just all green lights,” says Baker, who got a direct recommendation for Strain from Momofuku’s Chang, too. “Tae is really talented, but arguably more importantly, he’s also a good leader and a great human that people who work with him respect and appreciate, which is a core principle of how we’ve done life and business as sibling-partners up to this point.” 

Strain will serve as culinary director at Old Westminster, and later this year, become the executive chef-partner of the family’s forthcoming Burnt Hill—a regenerative farm, farm-to-table restaurant, and visionary organic winery located on their 100-plus acres in Clarksburg, about an hour outside of Baltimore.

At the former, working alongside Johnson—who has overseen the Old Westminster food program since its inception—he plans to expand upon the existing menu, which changes seasonally and features a curated assortment of simple yet sophisticated dishes, including charcuterie, salads, small plates, and the fan-favorite wood-fired pizzas.

He also hopes to double down on the team’s commitment to using local and sustainable ingredients, such as vegetables from Good Dog Farm and Calvert’s Gift Farm; cheese from Firefly Farms and Caputo Brothers; and milk and butter from South Mountain Creamery—not to mention their own pastured pork and even firewood for the pizzas from Burnt Hill. By summer, they will even start stone-milling their own heirloom wheat to make the doughs. (Johnson also just completed an intensive cooking course at the Italian Culinary Institute outside of Sicily, skills from which she plans to incorporate into the rustic farm cuisine.) 

“I don’t want to reinvent the wheel—what happens at Old Westminster is really beautiful,” says Strain, 41, who is currently dreaming of a spring pizza with green-garlic cream, ramp pesto, and fresh mozzarella for the next menu drop on May 1, as well as a vanilla tart with whipped crème fraîche, lemon-rhubarb preserves, and fresh strawberries.

“We’ll be building on what’s already here, taking what works well and being thoughtful in how we think about what’s next for it, making smart, fun, creative moves around the edges,” he says. “And if there’s something that I want to bring to this place beyond just dishes, it’s many years of experience and management in restaurants, trying to enrich the kitchen in that way.”

Already, his 12-person culinary team has more room for both ideas and implementation, thanks to recent renovations that transformed their ad-hoc pizza pavilion into a formal kitchen—more than doubling its square footage, adding a marble pass with glowing globe-shaped pendant lights, and featuring wide windows that provide guests with an open-kitchen view. 

“The cooks are very happy,” says Strain. “Every week, there are small victories. And it’s really exciting, it’s kind of a visceral thing. At times, restaurants can be static, but it’s palpable to me, walking around now—you can really feel the changes and the energy it’s giving to the team.”

Meanwhile, just outside, the new “kitchen garden” seating area opens today—April 28—transforming an empty back-of-house lot into an “Italian al fresco dining vibe,” as Baker puts it, with blue-and-white bistro chairs, tasseled umbrellas, and concrete two-top tables surrounded by modern planters featuring fresh herbs, vegetables, and flowers, designed by his wife, Casey. It’s an opportunity to welcome more guests into their space, with reservations required and typically booked up at least one month in advance. 

And of course, there will be wine, with pairings spearheaded by Fox, the sommelier, and Hinton, the resident winemaker. She just released two 2024 vintages: their bright and fruity Rosé, featuring grapes from Burnt Hill and Cool Ridge Vineyard in Washington County, and Honey, a multi-vineyard blend of Gruner Veltliner, Chardonnay, and Chardonel, slightly sweetened with wildflower honey from Apex Bee Company.

The rest of their whites will be bottled in the coming weeks, followed by their pét-nat sparkling wines. About 400 barrels of reds are currently aging in their storehouse, as well, including single varietals to be released with the opening of Burnt Hill this fall. These days, they make about 10,000 cases of wine per year.

“Old Westminster is in a really beautiful and mature place,” says Hinton, 35, noting the specific roles each sibling plays—with Johnson overseeing hospitality, Baker taking on farm duties, and herself handling wine (she has a background in chemistry). “It’s crazy to think, because we were completely different people when we started—none of us had our spouses, we didn’t have any kids, Drew hadn’t fought cancer, and we just really have gone through so much life since then. And it’s really amazing, that we’re so dialed in, and still very much in our strike zones.”

As she alludes, it’s been quite the feat for their family, getting to this moment. The winery itself was born out of the financial collapse of 2008, when their father, a homebuilder, lost his livelihood and was looking to sell their property on the rural outskirts of Westminster. Fresh out of college, the kids stepped in with a wild idea to quite literally save the farm—by starting a vineyard—planting their first 10,000 vines by hand in their childhood backyard in 2011. 

Slowly but surely, they kept at it, increasing production, expanding distribution, and adding their official tasting room before the pandemic provided another course correction—one they now look back on as a blessing, as it precipitated their private dining and pushed them into the food scene.

And then, biggest of all, came Baker’s diagnosis of acute myeloid leukemia in 2022. After two bone marrow transplants, daily chemo treatments, and countless nights at the Johns Hopkins Hospital, the father-of-three is now in remission. 

“If there’s anything I’m sure of, it’s that you never can predict what life will bring,” says Johnson, 34. “From the beginning of this first decade, when we were out to prove something, up to now, after Drew’s health journey, and all we’ve been through as a family, and how we’ve all grown up, so much of our mission is just celebrating life together and creating genuine moments of joy for people on our farm in the same way.” 

For them, it seems that everything that’s come so far has led to this next chapter, with the addition of Strain and the launch of Burnt Hill.

“Looking back on the last 15 years, going back to when we really started,” says Baker, “I have such a sense of pride in where we are and where we’re going, because I always am reminded from whence we came.”

There are few people who know the Baltimore music scene as well as Micah E. Wood. The local photographer—and musician himself—has been documenting DIY artists here for more than a decade, having come to Baltimore from Virginia to attend the Maryland Institute College of Art, where he is now a part-time photography professor.

Much like his music, Wood’s portraits are radiant—rich in color, light, and life force—capturing musicians of myriad genres in compositions that feel deeply intimate, with an imaginative brushstroke of impressionism, as if in a dream.

In both of his books—his first, Features, released in 2016, and now Scene Seen, available in stores and online—Wood creates a time capsule of the local music scene, with these most recent images taken between 2016 and 2024. Along the way, he also captures the city itself—its rowhomes, parks, parking lots, sidewalks, back alleys, venues, studios, the lush overgrown wilds of Maryland summer. As Baltimore continues to ever-evolve, this latest collection feels like a testament to both the city’s past and its future.

We caught up with Wood to chat about the printed page, the power of color, and his upcoming album. Catch him and grab a copy of Scene Seen on Thursday February 27 at Good Neighbor in Hampden, with live performances by sitarist Ami Dang and singer-songwriter Eyas from 7-10 p.m., or during a free discussion with the book’s designer, Christopher Chester, at the Enoch Pratt’s Central Library on May 1 at 6 p.m. Wood will also be performing live at the Ottobar on May 16.

How did you come to photography?
When I was in high school, I kind of felt like I wasn’t good at anything. I had spent a lot of my youth playing violin in the school orchestra, and then I learned some piano, but I just felt, no pun intended, second fiddle—it wasn’t really grabbing me. But then I started going to concerts. And for those concerts, I wanted to buy a little pocket camera, just to document, so that I could remember. This is pre-iPhone, right? But eventually, I realized, hey, there are some good shots in here, and I started feeling this spark inside me. This was a thing that I could do.

Why portraits versus live music?
I could say it’s selfish. Early on, I got tired of doing concert photography because I wanted to enjoy the show. If I’m doing concert photography, I’m working, I’m locked in, I’m looking for shots, not listening to the music. But with portraiture, you get to look someone in the eyes and spend time with them and learn more about their story.

You came to Baltimore to attend MICA, where you majored in photography with a double minor in book design and book making. That resulted in your first book, Features. We are also fans of print. But why books for you?
First of all, everything looks good on the printed page. But making books is also inherently a bit of a political act, when you think about how many times in history they have been burned, or now, in the digital age, when we have so much loss of document. We also have full sections of the internet getting deleted right now, right?

But also, in a scene like Baltimore’s, bands come and go, which has happened a lot over the past 15 years I’ve been here. Sometimes they end up removing their stuff from the internet, and their stories are then largely just remembered by the people who experienced them at the time. My first book was a love letter, but mostly a portfolio. With this new book, I saw there was more to it—I went into it thinking about being archival in nature.

“My first book was a love letter, but mostly a portfolio. I went into this new book thinking about it being archival in nature.”

And it’s a world you know intimately, now being a musician yourself.
This book is guided portraiture, it’s not full photojournalism, but why I think it works at the level it does is because I understand these artists and their work. And I don’t just listen to their music—these are people I’ve seen live many times and played shows with. There’s a level of trust, and music has helped me speak the same language, especially for new artists, who aren’t used to having their photograph taken.

It seems that the city is as much a subject as the musicians.
The city is the background and foreground of all these photos. The first step of my process is asking an artist, do you have a location in mind? Is there a place you love? Baltimore might seem small, but there are so many little pockets that you might never discover. I have a long list of locations and a lot of cell phone pictures with notes about the time of day or year. Sometimes I drop a pin on Google Maps and write “nice wall.” I drove by a construction site with my wife the other day and was like, “Ooh, there’s a shot right there!”

Baltimore is so beautiful, but it is also constantly changing. There are a lot of photos in this book that can’t exist again. Like the photos of Snail Mail that I shot with Baltimore magazine. We walked outside and we took that photo in that construction site next to Ottobar. That’s a whole new building now, all within three years.

In addition to the city and scene, what are some of your other influences?
What’s cool about this book is that I’ve been teaching the whole time I’ve been making it. In teaching, I’ve been working backwards into my process in order to explain it my students, and in that, I discovered a lot of things I hadn’t tried. There’ve also been a lot of external factors that have given me new range, like the pandemic pushed me to shoot farther away, and I’ve found a lot of love in those compositions.

There’s plenty of photographers that I adore, too—local photographers that push me, like Faith Couch and Isaiah Winters. . . . And as far as classics, I really love, like, a Garry Winogrand, one of the first people to take color photography as a serious fine-art form. I love color, so seeing his original color photos and thinking about how stark those bright, vibrant, rich colors must have felt coming out of all black-and-white photos, and him basically being told that those real colors aren’t art. But they are! Sometimes I relate to that, especially coming from a fine-art background. It’s not frowned upon, but people are like, “Oh, how pretty . . . ” And I’m like, “Yeah!” I want to take a pretty photo—what’s wrong with that?

“Now I always joke, the pop princesses are out at the hardcore shows, and the hardcore dudes are out at the pop shows.”

What does color mean to you?
There’s a lot with color. In a way, color is challenging, right? Everyone perceives it slightly different, so it can be a hard to create a common denominator. And I think there’s a lot of reasons why black-and-white photography, besides just its serious look, gets taken so seriously. With photography, we talk about depth-of-field, we talk about motion or stillness, we talk about lighting—all these factors. Black-and-white lets you really focus on composition, texture, and gesture, and color can be seen as a distraction . . . But in general, this is a colorful city. And I think color tells a whole different story of mood and personality.

Color is also ethics. If you don’t know how to color-correct a photo [to adjust the hues for accuracy], you’re not doing right by your subjects, especially a subject of a different skin tone. Some skin tones absorb light, other skin tones reflect light, and understanding color ends up making it so that people see themselves depicted accurately in the work. For me, it’s about making sure that I’m doing right by my subjects, but also the city.

The city has such a wide-ranging music scene. How did you decide who to include?
I can’t get everyone. It’s impossible. So instead of banging down the door of Turnstile, I thought, what genres are missing since my last book? . . . My collaborator, Chris, pointed out to me that this is mostly the Station North art scene—it’s artists who have come through that particular part of Baltimore. I didn’t get any of the country artists, like Letitia VanSant . . . and I don’t know the 8×10 jam-band scene at all.

But something I have been noticing and really loving lately is a lot of support between genres across the city, especially from Gen Z, and we haven’t really had that since the first few years of The Crown, which brought everyone together. . . . Now I always joke, the pop princesses are out at the hardcore shows, and the hardcore dudes are out at the pop shows.

What’s going on in the musical world of Micah E. Wood?
I literally, as of yesterday, finished recording all the drums for my first full-length record since 2019. There’s some post-punk, some disco, some straight pop, some funk. . . . It features a live band and at times it gets loose and jazzy. I’m excited for that. If everything stays to plan, it’s nine songs, and I want to release it around my birthday, so late summer.

We can’t wait.

In the middle of winter, walking into the new exhibition at the Maryland Institute College of Art’s Decker Gallery feels a bit like dreaming. Outside, the world clamors between distressing and divisive headlines, while inside, the space is still and serene, with a collection of collages on the walls that each draw the viewer into their own singular universes.  

Co-curated by MICA Exhibitions director Andrea Dixon and Baltimore Beat arts and culture editor Teri Henderson, LAYERS: The Art of Contemporary Collage is a celebration of this boundless artform. Featuring a diverse group of more than 30 artists, from emerging talents to art-world heavyweights, the works range from traditional cut-and-paste compositions to multi-dimensional mixed-media installations. Altogether, the collection showcases the medium’s magic and multitudes. 

“Collage is a very democratic medium,” Henderson told us last fall, noting that the accessible artform—long minimized as “craft”—invites artists of all abilities, identities, and experiences. In essence, disparate or even discarded materials are brought together to create something new. A “liberatory” practice, as the co-curators call it, “there are no limits or mistakes.  

The exhibition is on view in MICA’s Fox Building on Mount Royal Avenue through March 9. Admission is free and open to the public Monday through Sunday from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. On February 19, catch a collage-themed panel at the school’s Brown Center at 6 p.m.  

Prepare to be stopped in your tracks by Headdress 12 from D.C.’s Helina Metaferia. Contemplate Towards Gravity by Berlin’s Aline Helmcke. Confront history through Now In Color! by New York’s Isaiah Winters (a regular contributor to Baltimore). Consider the cosmos in If she had been a sleepwalker by Austin’s Xochi Solis. 

While every work is worth a pause, below are six—each by an artist hailing from or based in Baltimore—that we recommend lingering with a little bit longer.

Calling Cards and Spirits at Eddie’s Place by SHAN Wallace
Though there are those larger and more colorful works throughout this exhibition, this largely black-and-white collage is one of the most magnetic in the bunch. Over the last decade, Wallace has become a vital artist on the local scene, her art speaking so potently to the nuances of Black life in her hometown city, and here, that deep-rooted regard is on full display.

Chock full of action, the positioning of these photographs draws viewers into the heart of the piece—an ode to the third spaces of Black Baltimore—in this instance, through the scenes of Eddie’s B’s Glass Door Lounge in Jonestown. Amidst the joyful dancing and drinks, there are moments of rest and one resolute stare. The playing cards almost fall off the canvas, and beneath them, the artist herself signs the dangling tab, which feels like a mic drop. As if to say: “Check, please!”

Joan Poncella by Bria Sterling-Wilson
Last summer, we named this Baltimore native as our “artist to watch.” Intimate and introspective, her collages create evocative windows into the inner worlds of Black women, including members of Sterling-Wilson’s own family. In this work—part of a recent series in homage to her grandmother, the piece’s namesake—the Creative Alliance artist-in-residence combines photographs and magazine clippings into a surreal and seductive scene straight out of the 1970s.

A woman sits comfortably on a retro chair, both all dressed up and ready to go, yet also waiting, her hair setting beneath a salon dryer. She exudes a quiet ferocity, her larger-than-life left hand looking as if, at any moment, it might lift right out of the frame. Be sure to stop and admire a similar coming-to-life effect in the adjacent Wifey Material.  

La Cueva de la Sirena: San Carlos by Jackie Milad
On the east wall of the exhibition, this kaleidoscopic tapestry is a centerpiece that viewers could get lost in for hours. From a brass bar, it hangs with both light and might, with the 2019 Sondheim Artscape Prize finalist layering her hand-dyed canvas with paper, paint, and chiffon into a cacophony of texture and color.

A child of immigrants, Milad uses the artwork—part of a recent series, translated as Searching for the Siren—as a means to explore her mother’s Honduran roots, as well as her own mixed and migratory identity (her father hails from Egypt). Long, dark, faceless braids disappear into the canvas, like a mermaid sinking underwater, seemingly beckoning the artist—and you—to follow. 

My mother is the greatest artist. My mother is your mother, too. I weep by Devin N. Morris
As soon as you enter the Decker Gallery, your eyes will be drawn down the lengthy room until they land on a seven-foot-tall installation by Morris, a Baltimore native who now lives in New York. (He was recently an artist-in-residence at the renowned Studio Museum in Harlem.) The only freestanding work in the space, it’s a three-paneled room divider, the kind that conjures images of residential luxury. Up-close, Morris transforms it into a totem to the seemingly ordinary—plastered with found objects, from dice and dominoes to strings of pearls, shoulder pads, keys, a comb, and so on.

Part of a new series titled Thank You For Being Here!, recently on display at CPM Gallery in Bolton Hill, it considers the past lives of these forgotten materials, including the emotion and memory they hold, creating an exploration of our own human experience, in all of its love, life, death, and legacy.  

That’s Music To My Ears by Derrick Adams
Haven’t had a chance to see a work by Derrick Adams in real life yet? Now’s the chance, with this acrylic and fabric television, located next to Milad’s La Cueva de la Sirena. Over the last few years, between interviews with Vogue and exhibitions at the Brooklyn Museum, the Baltimore native-turned-art-world star has been returning home often to invest in the local creative community, and, undoubtedly, find new inspiration for his own works.

Part of his ...and friends series, this piece references the educational television of Adams’ childhood, using his signature color-block style to reflect on the depictions of the Black experience in contemporary media, giving the featured Black child center stage. The word “listen” lingers in the air, serving as a reminder to the viewer.  

Look closely for fine details: the forbidden-fruit-like apples and tomatoes, the knob-like buttons featuring The Nanny actress Fran Drescher, the friendship-bracelet-like beadings, spelling out a flow of messages. Each seems to pop out of the work, blurring the reality between dimensions. “How do you know when a work is finished?” we asked the artists years ago. To which Lomax responded, “When we can really feel it being alive.” 

Just south of North Avenue, two murals face each other in a flash of primary color on Harford Road.

On the west corner, a three-story painting depicts a man reading a book, its pages inscribed with the words of an African proverb: “However far the stream flows, it never forgets it origin.” On the east, there is a block-long scene of city life: children riding bicycles, sitting on stoops, eating ice cream cones.

Despite their size and splendor, these artworks can be easy to miss amidst the zoom of traffic at this busy crossroads and the lurking shadow of the Eastern District Courthouse, especially since some of their yellows and blues have faded in the sun. But not for Deyane Moses who vividly remembers the first time she saw them.

“They were larger than life,” says the 38-year-old artist and archivist, who was visiting the area on a field trip to the nearby National Great Blacks in Wax Museum from her native Northern Virginia in the 1990s. “I remember stretching my neck way up, like, ‘Wow!’ I had never seen a mural that big before, much less of a Black person.”

Little did she know then that, decades later, the muralist would become a pivotal part of her own artistic practice.

In February, Moses launches the annual Tom Miller Week in honor of the late artist, beloved not only for his magical murals, sprinkled from Oliver to Cherry Hill, but also his playful and poignant screenprints and painted furniture. Inspired by masters like Romare Bearden and Jacob Lawrence, his distinctive Afro-Deco style speaks to the Black experience, at times through satirical societal critique or somber personal reflection, at others through an all-out celebration of only-in-Baltimore joy.

Born in 1945, Tom Miller grew up in Sandtown-Winchester—a “whimsical” child, his mother once told The Baltimore Sun. He attended Carver Vocational-Technical High School with dreams of becoming an illustrator, and, upon graduation, got a scholarship to attend the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA), becoming one of the first Black students to enroll after its desegregation.

This is how Moses rediscovered him, as a student there herself. She’d started her career in the Army as a broadcast journalist, along the way finding a passion for sharing Black stories, which she later brought to art school. At MICA, studying photography and curatorial practice, her thesis would result in the Maryland Institute Black Archives, an ongoing project dedicated to preserving the history of the school’s Black artists.

“That’s how I stumbled upon Tom Miller,” she says. “I realized then that I had met him—or his work, that is—all those years ago.”

Delving into the past, she learned about Miller’s life and legacy, from becoming one of the first local Black artists to have a solo exhibition at the Baltimore Museum of Art in 1995, to the declaration of Tom Miller Day by Mayor Kurt Schmoke, ultimately taking place only once, that same year.

“I thought, ‘Let’s revive that,’” says Moses, who launched a limited celebration with an online reading by Schmoke during the early pandemic days in 2020, followed by a commemorative mural painting with local artist Ernest Shaw and musician Rufus Roundtree, Miller’s nephew, in 2021. “It just kept growing and growing from there.”

Now, with an outpouring of interest and support, Tom Miller Day has evolved into an entire Tom Miller Week. Community programming occurs at venues including the Reginald F. Lewis Museum and Maryland Center for History & Culture, and the Eubie Blake Cultural Center.

In the future, Moses hopes to launch a traveling retrospective, restore his murals throughout the city, and even create an art scholarship for students at Carver—helping his story live on in Baltimore, and beyond. (In 2000, Miller passed away due to complications from AIDS, at age 54.)

“I just want more and more people to see his work,” says Moses, who now teaches at MICA and works as director of programs and partnerships at Afro Charities, where she is preserving the century-old AFRO American newspaper archives. Last year, she also led a multi-institution initiative to recognize another local art legend, Elizabeth Talford Scott. “To preserve this history, to preserve these legacies, is vitally important,” says Moses. “Like they always say, if you don’t know where you’ve been, you don’t know where you’re going.”

Besides, for Moses, Miller’s work epitomizes the best of this Baltimore—its monuments, its waterfront, its rowhouses, its people. Two of his screenprints now hang in her living room, depicting Baltimoreans of all ages shopping with arabbers and savoring a summer crab feast.

“These are the good times in Baltimore,” she says. “Everyone here can relate.”

Art Space is a recurring element in the UpFront section of our print publication that spotlights a local artist or project making an impact in the city at large. Here’s what’s going on this month:

Years from now, when historians want to learn about the Baltimore music scene, they should look to the books of Micah E. Wood. Over the past decade, the MICA grad, photographer, and musician himself has published two captivating collections of local artist portraits, each in his distinctive dream-like style—rich in color, light, and life force.

As in the just-published Scene Seen, these works not only document the creative spirits who craft the soundtrack of this city, but also bottle the electric essence of Baltimore itself. Consider this the perfect Valentine for a loved one’s library or coffee table, with copies available online and at local bookstores, featuring design by local artist Christopher Chester and a foreword by Baltimore Beat editor Teri Henderson.

Join the creators to celebrate the book—and pick up your own copy—at a Q&A moderated by photographer Devin Allen at Bird in Hand in Charles Village on Sunday, Jan. 26.

Best of all, there’s an accompanying playlist, too:

Like the title of her debut EP, musician Jenna Balderson is a force of sounds both big and small. On this deeply personal introduction under her nom de plume, Eyas, the 28-year-old singer-songwriter showcases her vocal command and expansive style.

She’s been making music in Baltimore for the better part of the last decade, dropping DIY-pop singles here and there, her ethereal voice showing up as a guest star on tracks by other notable local artists like Micah E. Wood and JPEGMAFIA. And now, with these six standout tracks, she firmly plants her flag as a solo artist to know on the local scene.

Produced by indie darling Bartees Strange (who is now based in Baltimore, too) Quiet-loud is a collection of odes to the intimate moments that shape our everyday lives. Tender, textured, and at times transcendent, it shows off her ability to shapeshift between genres, sounding as at-home in lo-fi folk and neo-jazz ballads as in electric throwback dance tracks.

Her hushed, honeyed verses drift over and under sparkling synths, jangly electric guitars, and even rapid-fire punk-tinged drums. At times, her airy intonations on “Something In Between” almost sound like a low, lilting line of trumpet—you know the kind that make your heart ache? But at the start of 2025, “casa7” is the anthemic club beat we didn’t know we needed to get us through winter, if not the entire year.

Add it to your rotation, then catch Eyas live during her release show, featuring a full band at Metro Gallery on January 10.