This past Saturday afternoon, an estimated 60,000 people poured into the National Mall in Washington, D.C. to see the moment’s biggest band from Baltimore.

In the shadow of the Washington Monument, within view of the U.S. Capitol and within potential earshot of the White House, Turnstile took to an ad-hoc stage around 3 p.m., its panels painted in their signature rainbow palette.  

A distorted synth line hums out into the crowd as drummer Daniel Fang takes his seat, holds his sticks in the air, and smashes his first stroke of a solo riff. The rest of the band takes the stage, leader sing Brendan Yates closes his eyes and throws up his arms, and with a leap, the hardcore quartet launched into its rollicking anthem “Birds.”

A mosh pit swirls into formation and the entire crowd—teens and twentysomethings, old-head punks, parents with earmuffed kids on their shoulders—starts jumping along, all the way back to that 555-foot-tall obelisk, made of marble from Baltimore no less. (The same as our famous steps.) 

For the Baltimoreans in attendance—many identifiable by their Carpet Company gear, Orioles jerseys, and at least one Stavros Halkias tee—this was a familiar sensation. This day’s concert was wrapping Turnstile’s North American tour for their Grammy Award-winning 2025 fourth album, Never Enough, which they kicked off a year and change prior with a surprise show at the Wyman Park Dell in Charles Village.  

That free, all-ages gathering was also a benefit concert, with QR codes throughout the venue helping raise nearly $50,000 for local nonprofit Healthcare for the Homeless. This past weekend, the show was cohosted with Human Concern International, supporting humanitarian efforts in in Palestine, Lebanon, and Sudan. At last count, they’ve raised $270,000.  

A half hour in, Yates thanked the crowd, and the region. He and Fang grew up halfway between D.C. and Baltimore, attending their earliest concerts around the nation’s capital and were informed by its iconic punk scene.

The hardcore subgenre was born here in the late 1970s and early 1980s, by now legendary bands like Bad Brains, Minor Threat, and Fugazi—which also performed in this same spot 31 years ago, at the time in protest against cuts to local social and welfare programs. In attendance at the Turnstile show was Ian MacKaye, frontman of those latter two bands and founder of seminal hardcore label Dischord Records—a sort of torch-bearing moment of music history. 

“We’re so grateful to have been raised by this scene, one that taught us that music not only reflects the artists making it, but the people, and the world, and the suffering, and the joy that surrounds it,” said Yates as the synth of “Sunshower” lilted around him. “Today, we’re here to gather around music, to celebrate humanity. But also to fight for it.”  

“So loud enough for the White House to hear,” he continued, his voice rising into a shout, “free Palestine, free Sudan, free Lebanon, and always, always keep it moving.”

Then the band launched into its song of the same name off their 2013 debut album, Step to Rhythm—just one of the many deep cuts they performed on their 19-song, 75-minute set. 

Turnstile’s Washington Monument show was a year in the making. In that time, they performed an NPR Tiny Desk, got nominated for five Grammys, performed live duets with Paramore’s Hayley Williams, incited massive mosh pits at Outside Lands and Lollapalooza, released a remix album featuring everyone from DJ Rod Lee and Dan Deacon to Slayyter and Elton John, and made their debut on Saturday Night Live.  

On this bluebird October day, Yates crowd surfed in the afternoon sun. Bassist Franz Lyons leapt across the stage and even at one point left it to dance with fans. Guitarists Pat McCrory and Meg Mills shredded their hearts out.

There were other familiar faces: the Abdeldayem brothers of Carpet Company, Justice Tripp of Angel Du$t, famed skate photographer Atiba Jefferson (who shot our October 2025 cover). And what seemed like every photographer from Baltimore, for that matter.

At one point, National Park Service police officers on horseback entered a crowded area within the concert’s barricade, causing a brief commotion, knocking over a few concertgoers, and inciting a few middle fingers.  

Our favorite moment was when “Look Out For Me” shifted from its headbanging first half into an ambient Baltimore Club-inspired dance beat. A few lines from The Wire echoed out into the audience. The mosh pits shifted into a slow-motion swirl as the band briefly took off their instruments and soaked it all in.  

They wrapped with “T.L.C. (Turnstile Love Connection)” off their 2021 breakthrough album, Glow On. They gave high fives and threw guitar picks and drum sticks out to fans.

As a nearly full moon rose in the sky, just like that Wyman show, the crowd lingered, then slowly dispersed. 

Contributing photojournalist J.M. Giordano captured all of the energy—from the barricades to backstage—in his images below.

What exactly is Nathan Fielder? He’s not a documentarian, as the TV shows he creates often have a script or at least a heavily mapped out structure. He’s not a prankster, although he does dupe people—luring unsuspected marks into his elaborate schemes with his keen listening skills and earnest, almost sheepish demeanor—because his productions are often as sad as they are funny.

Mockumentarian doesn’t do it either—he’s not making fun of documentaries, he’s using their loose structure to create his own unique genre, something more akin to absurdist performance art than anything Frederick Wiseman (or Christopher Guest, for that matter) was up to.

So when I found out that Fielder was doing a documentary on Elizabeth Holmes, the founder of Theranos who was convicted of conspiracy and fraud, I wondered what on earth she was thinking.

Holmes gave Fielder nearly unfettered access to her and her family (a husband, two small children) in the 34 days leading up to her 11-year sentence in a federal prison. But why allow the most slippery of directors into your home? Why sign up to be interviewed by a man who is literally famous for messing with people?

Once the documentary started, it all clicked for me. Fielder and Holmes are, in fact, alike. Both feign sincerity. Both are impossible to read. Of course, Fielder’s inscrutability is a schtick. But is it entirely? I think there’s a real part of him that is exactly like his “character”—socially awkward, neurotic, and seeking real answers about what makes humans tick.

One of the great questions of the documentary involves a quote that Holmes allegedly gave The New York Times in a 2023 interview. “They’re not playing me,” she said, of various depictions of her on television, including Amanda Seyfried in the critically acclaimed miniseries, The Dropout. “They’re playing a character I created.”

The same quote could apply to Fielder. Is he playing himself? Is he playing a simulacrum of himself? Or has he created a fully unique persona just for us?

And the plot thickens. Holmes claims she never gave that quote to the Times. What she maintains she said was, “They’re playing a character they created.”

To be precise, it’s not Holmes who makes that defense, it’s her husband, Billy. “You must’ve said ‘they’ created,” he instructs Holmes, and she nods emphatically.

There was a controlling older man, Sunny Balwani, at the heart of the Theranos scandal. Holmes was romantically involved with him, too, and they started the company together. By some accounts, he was the mastermind of the too-good-to-be-true universal blood test. Whatever the case, it’s clear she is easily manipulated by a certain kind of man—equal parts doting and domineering.

Billy is the third main character in You Can See Everything. Indeed, you might call it the documentary as throuple. Often the three of them sit around a table, or on a couch, or, in one incredible scene, in an actual bed.

Fielder, who co-directed the film with his partner, Lance Oppenheim, likes to film faces in extreme closeup. This is both a way of getting at deeper truths and highlighting the awkwardness of the scenarios he constructs. (He’s also a weaponizer of awkward silences.)

Sometimes Fielder and Holmes’ faces get so close, you wonder if they might kiss. In one scene, we see Fielder and Holmes side by side on the couch, their faces filling the frame. A hand is stroking Holmes’ shoulder and, for a second, we actually think it’s Fielder. Then we realize it’s Billy, out of frame, on the other side of couch.

At other times, Fielder acts as creeper, peeping Tom—lurking in doorways and peering through windows. He follows Billy to the gym and then, gratuitously, films him naked in the shower. Sometimes, he records Holmes and Billy when they don’t realize they’re being recorded. And he occasionally wears an earpiece and headphones, as though he’s a member of the German Stasi.

The whole thing is equally surreal and riveting, a Fielder specialty. It’s impossible to tell who’s lying and when. Holmes, for her part, insists she never lies. She still maintains her innocence. But when she tries to explain that she never claimed her blood device worked, she merely claimed it had the potential to work, her words become tangled, obscure.

Later, Fielder says her confusing wordplay reminded him of the Abbott and Costello skit, “Who’s on First?” Neither Holmes nor Billy had ever heard of Abbott and Costello, let alone the famous routine (excuse me while I fill out my AARP card). When Fielder plays it for them, something curious happens—Holmes laughs but doesn’t fully get it.

Why did you laugh, Fielder presses.

Because they were all talking at once, she replies.

When he explains the play on the word “Who,” she nods, finally comprehending.

Billy, with his habit of filling in the blanks for both Holmes and, seemingly, everyone else in the room, says that Fielder’s analogy was brilliant. (Fielder had not made an analogy.)

“You’re saying that Liz thinks differently!” he says.

(We eventually find out that Holmes and Billy specifically selected Fielder as their documentarian because he “thinks outside the box” just like they do.)

It turns out control freak Billy, who in many ways is a genuinely doting husband and father, is just as fascinating a figure as his famous wife. Is he a conman? A protector? Or both?

The Abbott and Costello bit leaves room for the fact that Holmes is neurodivergent. Is it possible she really didn’t comprehend her own grift? When she says she never lies, does she believe that lie?

Even if you think that Holmes is nothing more than a skilled con artist, you have to feel a bit sorry for her. She has two young children. The youngest is still breastfeeding. They’ll only be able to see her in the prison yard. (And through the AI avatar she has created of herself…don’t ask.)

And then time is up and she has to go to prison. A minimum security federal prison in Texas.

This should be the end of the film, but it still has an hour to go.

Trust me when I say the final hour is every bit as riveting and off-the-rails as the first two. If you have any fear of getting bored during a three-hour film, I assure you, you won’t.

Fielder has made something wholly original here. And for all its sleight of hand, it somehow brings us closer to the truth than any conventional documentary could.

This is, indeed, the greatest trick that Nathan Fielder ever pulled.

Step aside, Salem and Sleepy Hollow. Though other cities seem to get more cred for their spooky spirit this time of year, we’ve got Edgar Allan Poe, the creation of the Ouija board, and the history of Fells Point as a haunted seaport (among other lore) on our side.

In fact, the travel pros at Only In Your State recently ranked Charm City No. 6 on their list of the top Halloweentowns in the U.S., taking into account not only our scary sites, but also the number of fall celebrations the area has to offer. Wouldn’t you know it, the study found that Baltimore has the second most Halloween events per capita in the country—which amounts to about 175 parties per 100,000 people.

To that end, allow us to present our annual monster list of Halloween happenings you can’t miss this season. From frights, bites, and movie nights to bar crawls, dance halls, and last calls, consider this your guide to having the best All Hallow’s Eve ever.

THE CLASSICS 

10/14-17: Garden Glow
Lucky ticketholders will marvel in the magic of hundreds of jazzed-up jack-o-lanterns designed by the community, presented alongside live music, family-friendly fun, and eats and drinks for sale. Ladew Topiary Gardens. 3535 Jarrettsville Pike, Monkton. 5-9 p.m. 

10/24: The Great Halloween Lantern Parade 
March in this illuminating Patterson Park procession that has been beloved for its larger-than-life lanterns and inclusive community feel for more than 25 years. Before sunset, get parade-ready with arts and crafts, pop-up performances, and a kids’ costume contest. Patterson Park. Festival: 4 p.m. Parade: 7 p.m. Free. 

10/24: Halloween Baltimore 
The city’s biggest Halloween bash brings costumed Baltimoreans to the Maryland Science Center for nonstop live music in five of the museum’s spaces—including its planetarium, IMAX theater, and rooftop. This year’s lineup highlights faves like Talking Heads cover band Psycho Killers, DJs Rob Macy and James Nasty of Save Your Soul, funk supergroup The Future is Funk, and the lauded Naptown Brass Band. Maryland Science Center, 601 Light St. 7 p.m.-1 a.m. $55-120.

10/29-30: Arbooretum
Cylburn Arboretum’s two-night spooky soiree offers moonlit nature walks, seasonal crafts, free face painting, and a chance to see the famed mansion decked out in all its Halloween glory. Cylburn Arboretum, 4915 Greenspring Ave. 5:30-7:30 p.m. $5-10

10/30: Baltimore Bike Party: Halloween Ride
Beware! The city streets will see sets of wheels wandering from downtown to Highlandtown on Halloween night in conjunction with this fan-favorite community ride. Wear your costume, decorate your bike, and pedal with the pack before descending into an after-party (complete with a dance-off and costume contest award ceremony) at Monument City Brewing. St. Mary’s Park. 606 N. Paca St. 7 p.m. Free. 

ROARING RAGERS

10/25: Howard Street Haunt
Romp around Remington for a full day of neighborhood hijinks, including seasonal vintage markets at the Ottobar and The Charmers Club; a costume party at Vision House; and a Ravens watch party at Sweet 27. Multiple locations including Ottobar. 2549 N. Howard St. Times and prices vary. 

10/30: Offstage Presents: Noizu
Start Halloweekend on a high note with this late-night rave headlined by UK-born house music heavyweight Noizu. Power Plant Live. 34 Market Pl. 8 p.m. $51.

10/31: Mama Koko’s x Outer Space Greenhouse: Party N Bull$hit
There’s one rule for this year’s costume extravaganza at Hooper House in Old Goucher: icon energy only. Dress as your favorite film, television, or music legend and show up ready to rage. Mama Koko’s. 100 E. 23rd St. 9 p.m.-1 a.m. $15. 

10/31: Glam Disco Dance Party at Dutch Courage 
Sip creepy cocktails, grab a bite, and enter into the costume contest ($10 per entry) before hitting the dance floor with DJ Es and That Rob Macy. Dutch Courage. 2229 N. Charles St. 8 p.m.-12 a.m. $10. 

10/31: Cursed: A Coven Couture Halloween
Witchy wonder awaits at The Club Car in Station North, where revelers will enjoy drag, burlesque, DJ beats, and a cauldron of cocktail options. The Club Car. 12 W. North Ave. 9 p.m.-2 a.m. $5 at the door. 

10/31: Rocket to Venus Halloween Costume Party
After you trick or treat on the Avenue, duck into this Chestnut Avenue watering hole to shake your bones and show off your costume for cash prizes. Rocket to Venus. 3360 Chestnut Ave. 10 p.m.-2 a.m. Free entry.

10/31: Surrealism at W.C. Harlan
For its Halloween night festivities, this Old Goucher haunt is transforming into a surrealist funhouse paying homage to “all things uncanny, paradoxical, absurd, and sublime.” W.C. Harlan. 400 W. 23rd St. 5 p.m.-1 a.m.  

10/31: Rave to the Grave at The Point in Fells 
If you’re partying with the departed souls still roaming around the waterfront in Fells, book it to The Point for a ghastly glow party featuring drink deals, live music, photo ops, and glow sticks galore. The Point in Fells. 1738 Thames St. 3 p.m.-2 a.m. Free entry. 

10/31: Bmore Horror Club Halloween Party
Who better to party with on All Hallow’s Eve than the Bmore Horror Club? Start the evening with a potluck (might we suggest contributing a nice spider web dip, or a platter of finger foods?) before browsing vendors and heading into an epic evening dance party with DJ Nicholai, Metroshock, and Benjie Loveless. Peabody Heights Brewery, 401 E. 30th St. 6-10 p.m. Free.

10/31: Danceoween at Library Nineteen
Perfect your costume and get down to non-stop DJ sets by Cadeem Lamar, Muse o Fire, and Disconesia—which will all be recorded live. Library Nineteen. 606 S. Ann St. 7-11 p.m. $17. 

10/31: Nightmare on Fort Ave at Don Tigre
Costumed party-goers at this Locust Point cantina will enjoy heart-thumping DJ beats all night long. The person with the best Halloween get-up will be awarded $200 cash. Don Tigre. 900 E. Fort Ave. 10 p.m.-2 a.m. $15. 

10/31: Sweet Spot Gay Halloween Party
This deadly dance party—among the most popular of the year from the Sweet Spot crew—is creeping back into Station North. Strut into the crowd to show off your costume and belt to bangers all night long. Metro Baltimore. 1700 N. Charles St. 10 p.m. $20. Waitlist in effect. 

10/31: Darkness Falls: A Halloween Vampire Soiree
Sharpen your fangs and head to Mt. Vernon’s chic Hotel Ulysses for an evening of cocktails, light bites, live jazz, DJ performances, and a costume contest. Ulysses. 2 E. Read St. 7 p.m. $70. 

MYSTICAL MUSIC

10/1-18: Nevermore
Experience Edgar Allan Poe’s work as never seen before in this water-drenched dance and media performance inspired by “The Raven” and his other gothic masterpieces. The Voxel. 9 W. 25th St. Times vary. $25-75.

10/24: A Very No Land Beyond Halloween Battle of the Bands 
An enchanted evening of jokes, jams, eats, drinks, tarot card readings, and, most importantly, nonstop live covers by three bands is in store for attendees at Station North’s board game bar. Be sure to bring gently used donations for the bar’s winter clothing drive. No Land Beyond. 108 W. North Ave. 7 p.m. Sliding scale admission: $5-15.

10/30-11/1: Psycho in Concert 
The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra performs the iconic score of this Alfred Hitchcock thriller, bringing that hair-raising music to life alongside a screening of film. Joseph Meyerhoff Symphony Hall. 1212 Cathedral St. Fri. 7:30 p.m. Sun. 3 p.m. $29-133. 

10/30: Halloween ATP
Come dressed in costume for this unique concert experience at Current Space, featuring local musicians performing ten-minute, one-time-only shows covering their favorite bands. Current Space, 421 N. Howard St. 6 p.m. $17.19-19.30.  

10/31: Sun Ra Arkestra Halloween Spektacular 
At Keystone Korner, tap your feet to an an epic Halloween celebration with this legendary outer-space jazz-meets-big-band musical collective. Keystone Korner, 1350 Lancaster St. 6 & 9 p.m. $55-65.

10/31: Monster Menagerie 
Grab your most ghoulish garb for a dazzling show featuring all-star Baltimore drag performers, plus games, dance, and prizes for best costume. Manor Mill. 2029 Monkton Rd., Monkton. 7-10 p.m. $24-40. 

BOO-ZE AND BITES

TO 10/31: Freaky Tiki’s Haunted Tiki Hut at SoPro
Upstairs at Sopro, immerse yourself in island-inspired snacks, chilling nautical decor, and the requisite cocktails in aged tiki vessels. The vibes, curated by the designers with The Otherside Creatives, give Spooky Island from Scooby Doo (2002)—which is fittingly the special feature for movie night on Oct. 19. SoPro. 3000 O’Donnell St. Tues.-Fri: 5-9 p.m. Sat.-Sun.: 12-9 p.m. Pay-as-you-go. 

TO 10/31: The Nightmare Bar: A Burton-Inspired Halloween Pop-Up
The themed pop-ups continue at The Point in Towson, which is going all out with a Tim Burton experience this month. Re-watch your favorites and reserve a timeslot to take in the decor while ordering specialty eats and drinks—like the gummy bug-garnished Beetlejuce cocktail or the Edward Ciderhands house hard cider. The Point in Towson. 523 York Rd. Towson. Two-hour time slots vary. $15 entry. 

10/15: Boos and Bites Bar Crawl to Fund Abortion Access
Nine bars throughout Remington, Old Goucher, and Station North will offer Halloween-themed specials on this self-led crawl to support Abortion Fund Maryland. Complete challenges at each spot for a chance to win prizes. Various locations. 5-9 p.m. Pay-as-you-go. 

10/30: Disco Witch Cocktail Dinner at Sally O’s
The Highlandtown restaurant’s “Witch-tober” festivities culminate with a four-course dinner complete with potion (cocktail) pairings. Don’t be shy. All hats, brooms, and wands encouraged. Sally O’s. 3531 Gough St. $75.

10/31: Ekiben Baolloween
Once again, the beloved Asian-fusion spot is selling mega-discounted $7 buns and $14 bowls to patrons on Halloween night. The only catch? You have to show up in costume. Multiple locations including 1622 Eastern Ave. 4:30 p.m.-close. $7-14

10/31: Gothic Glam Affair at The Owl Bar
If you’re into haunted history, Halloween at The Belvedere is something you have to experience. Plan a gothic glam costume and take in the energy of the Mt. Vernon hotel’s Prohibition-era speakeasy while snacking on bottomless buffet bites and, of course, sweet treats. The Owl Bar. 1 E. Chase St. 8 p.m.-1 a.m. $55. 

10/31: The Cask of Amontillado at Bar Dalí
Upstairs at Bar Dali in Mt. Vernon, the Swann House events space will offer DJs, dancing, tapas, an open bar, and special sherry tastings. Staff will be on the lookout for the best dressed, with bonus points for Edgar Allan Poe’s doppleganger. Bar Dali. 909 N. Charles St. 8 p.m. Downstairs: Free admission. Ticketed upstairs celebration: $79-99

FREAKY FILMS   

10/15, 10/22, & 10/29: Halloween Movie Watch Parties at The Duchess
On Thursdays throughout the month, belly up to the bar at The Duchess in Hampden to embrace the spirit of the season with featured flicks like Casper, Halloweentown, and Scream. The Duchess. 1000 W. 36th St. 9 p.m. Free admission. 

10/19 & 10/26: Spooky Monday Movies at Golden West Cafe 
This month’s movie lineup at Golden West is, of course, an ode to spine-tingling cinema. Mark your calendars for flicks like Addam’s Family Values and Coco. 1105. W. 36th St. 6 p.m. Free admission. 

10/23-10/25: Bmore Horror Film Fest
This annual film fest returns to amplify horror and horror-adjacent storytelling in Charm City. The weekend kicks off with a filmmaker meet-and-greet at Old Major in South Baltimore, followed by select screenings at 2640 Space in Mt. Vernon, and an honorable mention screening at Black Cherry Puppet Theatre in Sowebo. Times and locations vary. 

10/24: Halloween Movie Night at Guinness Open Gate Brewery
Among the final events scheduled before the gates at Guinness close for good is this Halloween double feature of Ghostbusters and Sleepy Hollow. Per tradition, the Charm City Ghostbusters (yes, they have their own Ectomobiles) will be on site to add to the fun. Guinness Open Gate Brewery. 5001 Washington Blvd. Halethorpe. 6 p.m. Free admission. 

10/29-31: Rocky Horror Picture Show at The Hippodrome
Just in time to honor the late Tim Curry, join these screenings of the Rocky Horror Picture Show’s new restored film with a live shadow cast, costume contest, and audience participation. The Hippodrome Theatre, 12 N. Eutaw St. Times vary. $36-80. 

FAMILY FRIGHTS

10/17: Park’d N’ Pumpkin
Bad news: this family fright fest turns Druid Hill Park into a haunted roadway, complete with clowns and creatures lurking around every corner. Good news: Unlike a traditional haunted house, you can stay in your car. Druid Hill Park. Two sessions from 7-10 p.m. $14 per car. 

Fridays-Sundays through 10/31: ZooBOO!
Weekends leading up to the big night, dress up your kiddos and wander the zoo’s habitats to find face painting, an inflatable corn maze, crafts, sack races, trick-or-treating, and more autumnal attractions. The Maryland Zoo in Baltimore. 1 Safari Pl. 10 a.m.-4 p.m. $33.

10/24: Harford Road Spooktacular
Get the party started early in Hamilton-Lauraville, whose Main Street businesses will host trick-or-treating for families before a community bash with crafts and dancing at The Lot. 4500 Harford Rd. 4-9 p.m. Free. 

10/31: Hampden Halloweenfest 
If you’ve never walked the Avenue in Hampden on Halloween, it’s truly a sight to behold. Storefronts illuminate with festive decor, kids criss-cross the street to trick-or-treat at shops and businesses, and neighbors gather for the famous 50-year-old costume contest. W. 36th St. 5-8 p.m. Free. 

Of course, no Halloween things-to-do list would be complete without ghost tours, haunted houses, pumpkin-picking, leaf peeping, apple cider-sipping, and candy shopping. We’ve got local guides for all of this and more, here.

Additional reporting by Sophia Naughton; Fact-checking assistance by Gabrielle Plaag

Amy Sherald is a tough act to follow. Throughout a 22-week run at the Baltimore Museum of Art earlier this year, 80,000 people stood before the canvases of Sherald’s exhibition, American Sublime, marking the institution’s highest attendance this century.

But this fall’s lineup proves that landmark success was more than just luck—that the BMA is generating its own momentum, and that it might just be at the top of its game.

Open since Oct. 4, Flashback: Two Centuries of Baltimore Photography is the first major exhibition to document the city’s role in the history of this art form. The collection features more than 90 photographers and 200 images, ranging from rare daguerreotypes and tintypes to powerful photojournalism and contemporary street photography, all taken here.

Across multiple themed galleries—industry, community, protest, ranging from ordinary scenes to iconic subjects—it traces the evolution of both medium and metropolis.

There is the first known photograph of Baltimore. And the first known portrait of the one-time Baltimorean, Frederick Douglass, who became the most photographed American of the 19th century. There are both marble steps and the blazing Great Fire by famed Baltimore Sun photographer A. Aubrey Bodine. There are arabbers and rowhomes by revered Smithsonian documentarian Roland Freeman. And, of course, that Time cover by Devin Allen.

Most behind the camera are Baltimoreans—both lesser known and legendary. Others were just passing through. Yet still found a muse in this city.

Other highlights: the reading room, featuring a house-made newsprint in an old City Paper box; a city-inspired soundtrack by Baltimore Club producer Ultra Naté; and a library curated with help from community members like Baltimore Photo Space, Press Press, and Ben Egerman of A Gay Little History of Maryland.

There’s also the What Goes Down When You Love Somebody video installation by the power trio of Nia June, Kirby Griffin Jr., and APoetNamedNate; plus encased photobooks we wish we could physically peruse, like Shae McCoy’s West Baltimore Ruins; and a World War II-era file drawer featuring 46 mugshots of shoplifters.

In the end, Flashback is a rich portrait of this town, considering the ways in which photography not only records history but shapes it. Co-curated by the BMA’s curator of prints, drawings and photographs Leslie Cozzi and assistant curator of contemporary art Antoinette Roberts—with an assist from an advisory panel that includes heavyweight cultural historians like True Laurels’ Lawrence Burney, Afro Charities Deyane Moses, and Angela N. Carroll—it is a vital archive that adds new weight to its already historic creative legacy.

On view through February 2027, this is a ticketed exhibition, with discounted admission on Thursdays after 5 p.m., and free entry on Nov. 22 and Jan. 17. Prepare to learn a lot (did you know that the first photo studio here was opened by the inventor of the commercial camera?) and leave with a profound new layer of perspective on Baltimore.

And while every work is worth a pause—including the entrance’s family portrait by Phylicia Ghee, some surrealist limbs by Connie Imboden, an 81-part photogram by Kei Ito—below are a dozen not to miss.

“7-11 7-11 Seven” by Devin Allen

When you think of street photography in Baltimore, Devin Allen is likely now the first artist who comes to mind. His 2015 photographs of the Baltimore Uprising following the death of Freddie Gray launched him on to the cover of Time magazine. That led to his first book, A Beautiful Ghetto, in which he defies stereotypes about and captures the courageous spirit of his hometown. See many of these seminal works throughout the exhibition.

But this 2022 photograph was new to us. Shot from above as if a player himself, Allen’s image magically stops the motion of a sidewalk craps game. The bright sunlight, the cast shadows, the hands moving and feet at the ready—you can feel the pulse of Baltimore.

“Blaze Starr Backstage” by Diane Arbus

In 1964, Esquire magazine ran a profile on the nation’s most famous burlesque star—Baltimore’s own Blaze Starr. To photograph the piece, they sent then-New York City up-and-comer Diane Arbus, who shot the Two O’Clock Club owner both at her home and on The Block. In a barely-there get-up of feathers, tassels, and jewels, the legendary stripper stands with the same sex appeal and attitude that has made her the stuff of legend.

This black-and-white portrait was likely taken on Arbus’ classic medium-format Rolleiflex, and there’s something about the raw edges that feel so right for the matriarch. (Nearby, spot another Baltimore icon: a photo-booth-style series of drag queen Divine, shot by partner-in-crime John Waters.)

“Pimlico Racetrack” by Jim Burger

In the late ’70s, this Rust Belt Pennsylvania kid came to Baltimore to study art at MICA. A love for photography landed Jim Burger as a longtime staffer at City Paper and The Baltimore Sun, with some shots in the old pages of this magazine to boot. Whether it’s a portrait of postal workers, firefighters, barflies, racetrack bookies, Camden Yards ushers, or the Natty Boh nude (a copy of which fittingly hangs in the bathroom at Peter’s Inn—if you know, you know), his images epitomize the everyman and at times eccentric spirit of this town.

As if pulled out of time, many of the spots are long since gone and the street corners are now unrecognizable. This 1980 horserace scene captures the commotion—an expectant crowd tangled in shadows and trash.

“Saturday Evening Bingo at St. Casimir’s in Canton” by Elinor Cahn

Elinor Cahn was a late bloomer. The Baltimore native came to art in her 40s, earning a degree from the Maryland Institute College of Art, where she met fellow student Joan Netherwood and professor Linda Rich. In the 1970s, the three women came together to photograph the changes and challenges faced by those living in East Baltimore, documenting the diverse multitudes of these communities.

The result was a survey of more than 200 photographs, now held in the Smithsonian. Several are on display in the exhibition, but our eyes immediately went to this portrait. With a pack of cigarettes, pair of cat-eye glasses, perfectly coiffed beehive, and stare straight into the camera, it begs of Cahn’s bingo playing subject: Who is she? And brings to mind the many past lives of Baltimore.

“Abdu Ali at The Crown” by Audrey Gatewood

It’s easy to feel a sense of nostalgia for periods of past Baltimore. For some, standing in front of this circa-2016 photograph taken at The Crown in Station North will certainly evoke that sensation. This was a potent time for the local arts scene, with a new class of movers and shakers infusing a newly electric, experimental, and open-armed energy into the DIY community.

Back then, Audrey Gatewood‘s black-and-white images bottled the magic of that moment, as seen here in this euphoric moment with musician Abdu Mongo Ali, whose Kahlon parties transformed The Crown from a dingy dive on North Charles into a vital third space for underground art. You can smell the sweat in the air, feel the bass in your ribcage, remember that feeling of collective transcendence. (Across the way, also see Josh Sinn’s Untitled, catching a moment in time at The Sidebar, another late, yet legendary venue.)

“Pete” by Joseph M. Giordano

Many Baltimoreans know Joe Giordano from his days as a photojournalist for City Paper (and now regular contributor to this very magazine). But what can come as a surprise is that he’s a steelworker’s grandson who grew up in Dundalk. He paid homage to this East Baltimore history in the Baltimore Museum of Industry’s recent Shuttered exhibition, which featured images that documented the decline and demise of the Bethlehem Steel mill at nearby Sparrows Point, taken over more than 15 years.

In this poignant color portrait, one of the tens of thousands who were employed by this industrial behemoth still wears his tenure with pride. Later in the exhibition, pause with a sampling of his protest photography.

“Sophia Campbell” by Elle Pérez

It’s hard to pick a favorite out of the four featured photographs from Bronx native and MICA grad Elle Pérez. They’re a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the Euforia Latina night at Club Hippo, taken during the artist’s shift at the beloved LGBTQ venue in 2014, a year before it closed after four decades, in a major loss to the community.

On this night, performers prepare for the drag competition, inspired by Tejano singer Selena Quintanilla. Mid-dress, Sophia Campbell stares down the camera with a bold swagger. Piles of wigs wait to be adorned. Makeup is touched up. Pantyhose are adjusted with a friend’s tug. Backstage, there is hustle, tenderness, transformation.

(In the opposite corner, take in the two annotated portraits by Amos Bardertscher for a snapshot of queer culture from two decades earlier.)

“Separate but Equal” by Irving Henry Phillips Sr.

Irving Henry Phillips Sr. is one of the all-time great photographers of Baltimore, where he was born and raised. Working for the Afro-American newspaper and NAACP from the mid to late 20th century, he chronicled everyday life in the city’s Black communities, from swimming lessons to working the waterfront, as well as some of the nation’s most historic moments, like Martin Luther King Jr.’s funeral, leaving behind a vital archive.

In this powerful image, he documents a civil rights protest at what was then Morgan State College in the 1950s. From a bird’s-eye vantage point, overlooking a crowd of hundreds, he captures the immensity of this moment and this city’s place within it. See the image in its full glory here, and be sure to follow the work of Webster Phillips, who is illuminating his grandfather’s legacy through the I. Henry Photo Project.

“Handshake #12” and “Handshake #9” by Gioncarlo Valentine

Gioncarlo Valentine is a powerhouse talent and photographer to the stars. Perhaps you’ve seen his portraits. He’s shot actor Michael B. Jordan, singer John Legend, comedian Maya Rudolph, activist Ava DuVernay, and poet Ocean Vuong, to name a few. For the likes of Rolling Stone, The New York Times, The New Yorker, Variety, even that great Gap ad a few years back on the streets of Baltimore, Valentine’s hometown.

And it’s no surprise—his works are up close, crisp and powerful, often black-and-white against a luminous backdrop, garnering him an American Masters nod from PBS. Find many throughout the exhibition, but stop for a while with this pair in the final gallery.

The photographer’s work upends stereotypes and elevates Blackness. Here, young men’s hands twist in gang signs. Suddenly, the potential of violence is transformed into a poignant display of intimacy.

“Salon Infiniti” by SHAN Wallace

We’ve long loved the work of SHAN Wallace. Her early street photography. Her True Laurels portraits. Her documentation of the last days of Lexington Market, also featured in the exhibition. Her recent collage work. But strolling through the galleries, this circa-2018 image became a new hidden-gem discovery. Tucked into a trio of images that show off Baltimore’s long love affair with big hair, it’s a quiet study of ritual and care, born out of her Sisters with Stories project about Black woman-and-girlhood.

A bright light shines down from above onto the work at hand. Steady fingers reach grip hot tendrils that send steam into the air. The subjects remain just out of view, focusing your gaze on the exchange. Though shot at its namesake beauty parlor in Old Goucher, the combination of title and composition evokes the sort of timelessness that can happen in these spaces. Where the struggles of the day can wash away. Where you emerge feeling embodied and beautiful.

“The Get Together” by Bria Sterling Wilson

“Saudade” is the Portuguese word to describe a deep longing for something that might have been or once was. That’s the feeling at the heart of this diptych of photographic collages by Bria Sterling Wilson, our 2024 “Artist to Watch.”

Combining family photographs taken before her time and found imagery from vintage magazines, the Baltimore native creates a tender tribute that tethers the past and present—a way to connect with her ancestors, to build her own memories. But even for strangers, the window into this faded yet familiar world brings up the deeply human joys of community and summertime. It’s one of three works by local artists recently acquired by D.C.’s prestigious Phillips Collection, where it was on view this summer.

For more on Flashback’s inspiration and historical significance, read our interview with BMA curators Leslie Cozzi and Antionette Roberts, here. 

In the summer of 2023, Carlyle Group co-founder and Baltimore native David Rubenstein was in Boston giving speeches at Harvard when one of his lawyers called with news: John Angelos, amid his father Peter’s declining health, was open to selling Rubenstein full control of the Orioles. The two had met in New York a few weeks earlier. 

The asking price, relayed through lawyers, was around $1.7 billion—much more than Rubenstein expected to invest, and more than he’d ever personally put into a single company. He decided to walk around Boston to think it over. 

“I realized that an opportunity to buy one’s hometown baseball team does not come along frequently,” Rubenstein writes in Inside the Owner’s Box: Conversations on Power and Leadership in Sports, one of two books he’s releasing this fall. He notes that his biggest financial regrets were investments he passed on, like an early chance to buy into Facebook, and selling a stake in Amazon too soon. “I thought that I should try to make the purchase happen. I would not likely get this chance again.”  

After months of negotiations that nearly fell through, Rubenstein and a group of investors agreed to buy the team in January 2024. They formally took control on the eve of Opening Day, four days after Peter Angelos died at 94. 

As the transition approached, Rubenstein did what he does before every interview for his television shows on Bloomberg, PBS, and C-SPAN: He looked for a book on the person or subject, in this case sports ownership. He didn’t find anything useful. 

So, in the two years since, he wrote his own, interviewing 14 other pro sports owners—including the New England Patriots’ Robert Kraft, the Philadelphia Eagles’ Jeffrey Lurie, the Washington Wizards and Capitals’ Ted Leonsis, and the Chicago Cubs’ Tom Ricketts—about why they got into the game and how they run their teams. Released Sept. 22, Inside the Owner’s Box is a breezy read that explores Rubenstein’s own account of buying the Orioles, his vision for the team, and how owning it fits into the 77-year-old’s varied life. 

To that end, on Oct. 6, he releases a second book, Speaking of America: Great Conversations at the Library of Congress. This one is a collection of interviews from the Congressional Dialogues—a decade-old series of closed-door dinners hosted by Rubenstein, where members of Congress from all parties listen in as he interviews historians, authors, and business leaders.  

Last week, we spoke with Rubenstein from his Carlyle office in Washington, D.C. —before news broke about fresh layoffs at the Warehouse, including to the person who plays the role of Mr. Splash and sometimes the Oriole Bird. He discussed both books, why he keeps writing and interviewing, and his Orioles tenure three seasons in—the last two without a playoff appearance, prompting a restless fanbase.

Why did you decide to publish books on these two vastly different subjects—sports ownership and the Congressional Dialogues series?
When I was looking to learn more about the sports ownership business, I didn’t find that many books. You’d see them about athletes, but not about the owners as much. I wanted to write a book about what it was like to be an owner and how I came to be an owner, and then interview other owners about their process. 

On the second book, I started this program about 10 or 11 years ago to interview prominent Americans in front of members of Congress, as a way to give them more background on American history. The dinners have been very popular because they’re convenient for them. They’re in the Library of Congress, which you can walk to underground from the congressional offices. I decided I would try to take the best of the interviews, edit them down, and put them in book form.  

At this point in your life, why do you feel compelled to publish books? You donate the revenue, but what do you get out of it personally?
I think when you get older—I’m in my 70s now—you want to always be doing something that keeps your brain active. You’re told to learn a musical instrument, learn a foreign language, or do crossword puzzles, but I’m not good at any of those. So my device is to conduct interviews. Preparing for the interview, sparring with the person when you’re doing the interview, and then editing it down. It’s kind of an anti-aging process, I suppose. 

With Inside the Owner’s Box, was there any reluctance to write a book about sports ownership, given that it’s more public than your other businesses?
It is amazing. At Carlyle [the private-equity firm he co-founded in 1987], we’ve bought hundreds of companies over the years. In 40 years or so, virtually nobody has asked me about any of them. And the companies are big—they’re multibillion-dollar companies in some cases. Sports is where I think everybody’s got an opinion, everybody’s interested, and you get much more criticism.

When you’re writing a book that more people are going to read, you realize—unless you’ve won the World Series every year—people are going to criticize you. You realize you’re probably not going to get perfect reviews. So, yes, there was a reluctance. There was also a reluctance to comment on certain subjects that probably are not in my area of expertise. So I didn’t comment on everything I could have about baseball or sports. 

What are a couple of things you gleaned from other owners that might inform your work with the Orioles now? As I was reading, I noticed you asked a lot about how hands-on other owners were with the team, if they visited the clubhouse, that sort of thing.
I’ve taken away that really good owners care about winning more than they care about making money, though they also don’t want to lose money. Really good owners have an obsession with the sport and their team. They really follow it. They pay a lot of attention to it. Really good owners are a little nervous about getting too close to players, because they might have to trade them or negotiate. There are good relationships between some players and owners, but every owner doesn’t think it’s their job to be the best friend of an athlete.  

I’ve also learned that people pay a lot of attention to the sports world, as I mentioned earlier, and it’s hard to please everybody. You’re going to get the emails telling you your stadium’s knishes are not good enough, or the hot dogs don’t have the good relish, or whatever it might be. And you’re in the business of trying to make people happy, so you’ve got to take into account what people say and try to listen to them. It’s an interesting phenomenon. It gets you much more attention than maybe anything else.  

“Really good owners care about winning more than they care about making money.”

You’re three seasons into owning the Orioles and the team has missed the playoffs the last two years. Do you feel like the honeymoon period is over? 
I’m not being booed when I walk into the stadium, but I have to be honest, as I pointed out in the book, the team that I bought was in first place in the American League East the year before we bought them. The next year, the first year of our control, they finished second place in the American League East and got in the playoffs, but lost both games in the Wild Card series.  

The last two years, we’ve not been that successful. [The Orioles went 75-87 in 2025, a season in which they fired manager Brandon Hyde in May. This season, under first-year manager Craig Albernaz, they finished 79-82 and were eliminated from playoff contention Sept. 24.] 

It’s frustrating. It’s very difficult to feel you put a lot of energy into something, and you’ve hired a lot of good people, and you’ve increased salaries, you’ve done a whole bunch of things to make the stadium better, but you still haven’t done what everybody wants, which is to do well on the field. We’ve got some things we’ve got to do to get better. 

You’ve said you want to win now. What’s on your agenda to get there?
In the offseason we are doing further improvements to the stadium. In terms of team performance, Mike Elias has already announced that he’s probably going to be hiring some additional people to help him. 

[At his season-ending press conference Sept. 28, Elias—the Orioles president of baseball operations and general manager—said the team’s baseball operations department is among the smallest in baseball and that he wants to add “different voices,” potentially including a general manager who would report to him. The team also parted ways with former vice president of player and staff development Matt Blood and reassigned assistant GM Sig Mejdal from heading the analytics department to focus on emerging technologies.]  

We’ll try to do what we can to make fans realize that the team should do better next year, and we hope that people will continue to support. My job is to be the face of that effort. I’m not going to tell the players how to play better, but I can maybe talk to corporate CEOs about why they should buy season tickets or be a sponsor.

Given everything else you have going on, are you spending more or less time on the Orioles than you thought you would? Two years ago, you told me you were doing Zoom calls every week with Mike Elias. Are you now more hands-on?
That’s a complicated question, because if I say yes, then I get more blame…But the serious answer is that my partner Mike Arougheti and I have a call at least once a week with Mike Elias, and then at least once a week with Catie Griggs, who’s in charge of the business side. Then probably every few weeks or so we’ll have an in-person meeting. We’re up to speed on what’s going on and give our input.  

I try to go to about 35 games a year. Mike [Arougheti] lives in New York, but he comes to Baltimore a fair bit. He’s been very involved in baseball analytics for a long time, and he was a baseball player in high school, unlike me. I peaked at Little League. 

“When you get older, you want to keep your brain active. You’re told to learn a musical instrument, foreign language, or do crossword puzzles, but I’m not good at any of those. So I conduct interviews.”

Moving on to Speaking of America, what’s one interview that stands out from over the years? Your interview with former Google CEO Eric Schmidt on AI got my attention, for example.
I had to sift through probably a hundred different interviews. One of the best I did not include, because I’d put it in a previous book, was when I interviewed the Chief Justice of the United States [John Roberts]. I asked him, “Did you always want to be Chief Justice of the United States when you were young?” He said, “No. I wanted to be an American history professor. That’s all I cared about. And my father said, ‘John, you’ll starve to death. There’s no money in it.’” But he went ahead, he went to Harvard, and he majored in American history. 

After spring break one year, going back to Harvard from the airport at Logan, he said to the cab driver, “Would you please take me to Cambridge?” The cab driver said, “Sure. Are you a student at Harvard?” “Yes, I am.” “What are you majoring in?” “Majoring in American history.” The cab driver said, “Well, that’s interesting. When I went to Harvard, I majored in American history also.” So John realized maybe he shouldn’t be an American history major.  

In Eric’s Schmidt’s case, I’ve known him a long time. He wrote a book on artificial intelligence with somebody who at the time was about 98 years old, [former Secretary of State] Henry Kissinger. So that was interesting that they were able to work together, and that Kissinger at that age was still interested in learning. 

How do you prepare for these interviews?
I take a look at other interviews the person has done already. Then I prepare the questions in my mind, and always listen to what the person’s saying so I can pivot if I hear something I didn’t expect. Interviewing somebody in front of members of Congress is a little tricky, because members of Congress are not used to sitting silent while somebody else is doing the talking. So we always allocate time for them to ask questions, and they often ask pretty good ones. 

Do you sense that members of Congress behave differently in that sort of setting?
Well, yes, because no press is there, so they don’t have to worry that somebody’s going to see them fraternizing or talking to somebody from the opposite party, which in Washington these days is not a way to advance one’s career. I’d say we have a lot of younger members now attending, probably 85 percent are from the House and maybe 15 percent from the Senate. We get members of leadership show up. Nancy Pelosi used to come a lot. Chuck Schumer comes a fair bit. 

There were a couple of people from the Maryland delegation who, when they were members of Congress, came to every one. Senator [Ben] Cardin and his wife came to almost every one of the dinners. Congressman [Dutch] Ruppersberger from Baltimore County came to every single one. John Sarbanes. Most of those people, after the dinner, would have to drive back to Baltimore or someplace in Maryland, but they were still willing to do it.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The four-year-old New/Next Film Festival at the Charles Theatre has become tradition for thousands of local cinephiles, with its expertly curated lineup of features, docs, and shorts followed by in-depth conversations with the filmmakers themselves.

And the after parties in Station North have become a requisite part of the entire experience. Because what better way is there to stretch your legs and let your brain process a day of fantastic filmmaking than by hitting the dancefloor with fellow fans?

As in previous years, contributing photojournalist J.M. Giordano stayed out late to capture all of the post-screening fun at Metro Baltimore and Baltimore Improv Group with his Olympus Stylus—on film, of course.

There is a lot of yelling in Digger. Chief yeller is our star, Digger Rockwell (Tom Cruise), a good ol’ boy oil baron who yells when he doesn’t get what he wants—which is certainly the case here, as he’s just discovered that his oil tanker in Greenland has set off a possible global catastrophe. Cruise, with a straggly gray combover, a paunch, and a pound of prosthetics, is actually great in this role: Funny, bellicose, narcissistic—but somehow never quite unlikable. Cruise demonstrates his true movie star chops here, establishing once and for all that it was never just about the million-dollar grin and the all-American handsomeness; the man really does command a screen.

If only Cruise were the only one yelling in Digger. But he has partners in volume: Sandra Hüller as his sister, Ellen, who owns an oxymoron: a “green” oil company that has been bought up by Digger. (Hüller, one of our most gifted actresses, has never given anything close to a bad performance. There’s a first time for everything.) Michael Stuhlbarg, as a fretful U.S. vice president, yells—generally out of fear. And then there’s John Goodman, playing the president, who happens to be dying of “cancer of the ass,” as he repeatedly informs us, who does the most yelling of them all.

The director, Alejandro G. Iñárritu, is wearing his influences on his sleeve here. The orderly, drolly funny sets and a mid-film plot twist (more on that in a bit) feel cribbed from Wes Anderson; the puffed up idiots in charge feel like Stanley Kubrick, and perhaps a touch of Terry Gilliam. The characters he creates are supposed to be over-the-top, grotesque— but I found the whole thing a bit exhausting. Vulgarity can come in many different forms. It doesn’t always have to go to eleven.

Indeed, if it weren’t for Cruise’s bravura and Riz Ahmed as the mild-mannered (hooray!) environmental scientist Ganesh, who is perhaps too stunned by the impending global disaster to raise is voice, a lot of the film’s first 40 minutes or so would be unbearable.

But then something is revealed that changes our perspective on what we are watching. Spoilers ahead so stop reading here if you want to go into the film cold.

 

 

Everything we’re seeing on screen is in fact a play—or a tech dress rehearsal for a play they’ll be doing tonight. (Props to the internet sleuths who guessed Digger was a musical. They were close!) This revelation is a bit absurd—even with a James Cameron-level budget, they wouldn’t be able to pull off the elaborate, ever-changing sets. But it is an interesting wrinkle. Suddenly, we’re meant to ask: Was all that overacting intentional? Cruise, now playing the actor Curtis Markson, certainly thinks so. He complains that some of the dialogue is too much. He’s also a bit frantic because his daughter is flying in from Jamaica to see the show and her plane has gone off the radar (there have been terrible storms). We also meet Kenny (Jesse Plemons), one of the show’s mysterious producers, with a haircut that answers the question “what if Anton Chigurth was a ginger?” and offers to help Markson find his daughter.

But then Iñárritu takes us right back into the action of the “play”—which is a bit jarring at first. The artifice of it all becomes even more glaring—how are we supposed to get lost in the story? Still, powered by Cruise and a few splendid set pieces—one involving Digger addressing a European assembly and giving his version of Jack Nicholson’s “You can’t handle the truth!” speech from A Few Good Man, this time in relation to crude oil (cinephile Iñárritu knew exactly what he was doing there)—it manages to be watchable.

And then, gird your loins, there is yet another twist that I won’t spell out here but that does bring the disparate pieces together in an intriguing way. Suddenly, the purpose of this meta structure is revealed and it’s clear the film has a lot on its mind—not just the powerful oil fascists who feel they have God-like power to ruin the planet but about our desire to consume the kind of cathartic work of art that shows these bad guys getting their just desserts. Nothing changes. We laugh and point at their ridiculousness and feel better about ourselves. And the world continues to burn.

Still, what can be said about a film that doesn’t reveal its true intentions until the final act? Is it worth slogging through to get there? I think maybe…yes? I spent a lot of Digger waiting for it end and now I actually want to see it again. Well played, Iñárritu. Well played.

Cinephiles in Baltimore have some reason to complain—we often get first-run indie films weeks after they premiere in New York or L.A.—but then again, we have the New/Next Film Festival and they don’t.

First with his tenure at the Maryland Film Festival and now with New/Next, festival programmer Eric Hatch has a remarkable record of finding rising talent just before they’re about to break into the mainstream.

Catch as many films as possible from October 1-4 (or better still, get an all-access pass) at The Charles in Station North so you can be on the leading edge of what’s happening in the world of cinema—both locally and beyond.

Here are some reviews to get you started.

ETERNITY ONE
Baltimore-based documentarian Marnie Ellen Hertzler immersed herself on the small Chesapeake Bay island of Tangier, getting to know its people, its rhythms, its way of life. Mostly, she focused on a girl named Ella—11 when we first meet her and about 14 by the film’s end. Ella lives with her good-hearted mother, Brandi, and, later, with her stepfather and new baby brother.

She’s a precocious kid, a worrier, a self-critic, and a budding artist. In the beginning, with her oversized glasses and earnest face, she resembles the little girl from Little Miss Sunshine, which adds to her charm.

Right away, she tells us about her biggest concern: “I live on an island that is slowly eroding away,” she says. That is not an exaggeration. Thanks to climate change, Tangier is literally receding and this ever-present threat hangs over the town like a dark cloud. Or like an asteroid, a recurring motif.

There’s a second part to this film, where Hertzler spends time with people who are transhumanists—they are seeking singularity between man and AI, so that a human can live forever as some sort of man/machine hybrid. (Or at least stay alive long enough for medical technology to make the human body more efficient.)

I confess the parts with the transhumanists felt a bit shoe-horned, although I suppose Hertzler is contrasting the simplicity of island life with the kinds of solipsistic concerns the islanders would scoff at. They want to fish, they want to eat what they catch, they want to spend time together, often in a church rec room that looks like it was frozen in the 1970s.

But both the transhumanists and the folks of Tangier are staring into an unknown future, albeit from very different perspectives.

There is also a robot named Grace, who serves as both a kind of uncanny valley and comic relief. Her creator, boasting about Grace’s human facial expressions, asks Grace to show angry, then sad, then surprised. All three faces are the same—a kind of contorted gawp. We’re not there yet (although the film was finished a couple of years ago…we’re much closer now).

Eternity One is best when it stays in Tangier, and especially with Ella. The passage of time gives the film a kind of poignancy, a la Richard Linklater’s Boyhood. And the dreamy score, by local indie darlings Beach House, adds to the elegiac mood. Ella’s art gets better. She starts to care enough about boys to at least call them “weird.” For now, the existential threat is at bay. But for how much longer?

Eternity One is Opening Night feature of the New/Next Festival on Oct. 1. It has an encore screening on Oct. 4. Director Marnie Ellen Hertzler is expected to attend both screenings. 

HERE I’M ALIVE
New York remains the city that never sleeps, but it probably looks a lot different from the image of dance clubs, strip bars, and all-night diners that you have in mind. Instead, much of New York’s nightlife is carried out online, or at least driven by online activity.

In his neorealist “urban epic,” director Joshua Z. Weinstein follows a series of characters living on the edges of New York City. Their stories are told in snapshots—we glimpse at their lives periodically over the course of one night.

There’s a Door Dasher Eddie (Eddie Torrenegra), getting yelled at by customers (“You forgot my Diet Coke!”) and trying to save enough to bring his kids over from an unspecified Latin country. There’s Felix (Caleb Zuzga), who uses Chat GPT to compose the perfect message to a would-be Sugar Daddy on an online dating site. (Later, he uses a photo app to give himself smoother skin and more pronounced cheekbones.)

We meet Krystaly (Krystaly Figeuroa), who lives in a shelter and tries to create a reality dating show, casting herself as the star. (Inevitably, the filming devolves into dirty talk and chaos.) And, most touchingly, there’s Majora (Cheyenne Gallagher), an agoraphobic who plays video games, watches interviews with tech titans, and chats with strangers on a message board.

One of those strangers is a young man, Luffy9 (Alex Fox) threatening to kill himself. Over a video call, Majora actually gives him good advice. Find things worth living for—even if it’s just things you like to do online. And most people who try and fail at suicide are glad they lived. Hang on, he suggests. But Luffy9 wants Majora to come over, which is a nearly impossible ask.

Filled with a cast of mostly non-actors playing fictionalized version of themselves, Here I’m Alive, is funny and sad in equal measure. The characters have dreams shaped by social media: Felix wants that perfect sugar daddy who will give him everything he wants and ask for nothing in return. Eddie posts someone else’s fancy sports car, claiming it’s his. Krystaly wants to be a reality TV star.

Social media has shown that people can get rich quick, just by posting online. But when will their time come?

Here I’m Alive screens Friday, Oct 2.

THE LORRAINE
The Lorraine Motel in Memphis will forever be marked by a grim event: It is the site where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in 1968. But The Lorraine had a full life, if you will, both before and after that ill-fated day. And acclaimed local documentarian Sam Pollard (Max Roach: The Drum Also Waltzes) lovingly tells its story in his new film, The Lorraine.

The motel/hotel was opened by Walter and Loree Bailey during the Great Migration. Memphis was, as the film tells us, a gateway for African Americans traveling from the south to the north—and both passengers and train staff alike would stay at the lodge. The motel, which had one of those iconic mid-century signs that you could see from the highway, was eventually put in the famous Green Book for Black travelers—and became the de rigueur stop for Black musicians, athletes, and civil rights activists who passed through town.

Muddy Waters stayed The Lorraine. So did Marvin Gaye, Curtis Mayfield, and members of the Negro League and the Harlem Globetrotters. Aretha Franklin apparently liked their catfish. And Isaac Hayes would winkingly tell motel staff that he “wasn’t here” when he came to the pool surrounded by beautiful women—his wife nowhere in sight.

Pollard has a knack for sharing history in a lively and vivid way. He uses archival footage, spirited period music, as well as extensive interviews to bring history to life. Here, he talks to the daughter and granddaughter of the Baileys, as well as historians, civil rights activists, politicians, musicians, and many others.

Poignantly, he talks to a woman who worked at The Lorraine for essentially her entire life. As a young woman, she got off the train in Memphis, saw The Lorraine, applied for a job as a maid, and never left. She was there the night MLK Jr. was killed. She tears up, recounting that night. “It was a sad day,” she says, sniffling. “I’m sorry.”

After King’s death there was some uncertainly about what to do with the motel. People came to pay respects but didn’t want to stay there. At the same time, other hotels in Memphis were now integrated and the neighborhood around The Lorraine fell into disrepair.

There’s a surprising second act to The Lorraine that you’ll have watch the film to discover (or perhaps you already know). And now there is this film, a fitting tribute to a place that spread a lot of joy, that defied injustice, offered a safe haven, and was much more than just the site of tragedy.

The Lorraine screens on Saturday, Oct 3.

MACKENZIE
Juniper (Lucya Yusimov), the 11-year-old protagonist of Mylissa Fitzsimmons’ Mackenzie, is bored. Her single mother works multiple jobs and when she’s home, she’s usually sound asleep. The house they live in is small and squat—so squat in fact that when Juniper is lying on her back in her bed, her feet can touch the ceiling (she props a book between her toes and reads it in that L position).

She also has a crush on a TV actor—as many 11-year-olds do. In this case, it’s Mackenzie Astin from The Facts of Life. (Fun fact: Astin has spent a fair amount of time in Baltimore as his father, the actor John Astin, taught theater at Johns Hopkins.)

When her mother is awake, she reminds Juniper to pack—they are moving from Utah to Idaho. Juniper doesn’t want to go. She loves Utah—and what’s more, she has a plan to meet Mackenzie in L.A., which is a bus ride from Salt Lake City. So she packs a knapsack—money she’s stolen from her mother’s nightstand, a Teen Beat magazine with Mackenzie’s picture, some candy, a map, a tape recorder—and heads out to Salt Lake City on her bike. She doesn’t tell her mother. She doesn’t say goodbye.

Most of Mackenize is simply following Juniper on her trek through the Utah desert. She climbs rocks, she swims, she bikes. Watching her, with her floral shorts and pigtails, we sense how vulnerable she is. But she seems completely unbothered. She uses her tape deck to record messages to Mackenzie and sometimes, documentarian-style, to capture the sounds of being outside—a flag whipping in the wind, an electric pole that is hissing. She talks to herself too—a kind of ongoing narration of her day—she’s clearly a kid who is used to being alone.

I confess, I had to interrogate my own reaction to Juniper’s isolation. I was scared for her, but then I wondered if I would be equally scared if a fearless 11-year-old boy were on his own? Yes, but not quite as scared.

There are very few people in this film other than Juniper, but those who see her assume she’s just fine. And why wouldn’t they—she seems fine.

Mackenzie is not a film for people who demand plot or dialogue in their films. It’s mostly just Juniper, on her journey—shot beautifully, often poetically in the Utah desert.

Her certainty that Mackenzie Astin will be waiting for her with open arms reminded me a bit of Alexander Payne’s Nebraska, with Bruce Dern’s Woody setting out to claim a sweepstakes prize that he’s sure he’s won. But just as Woody secretly wanted to spend time with his adult son, we wonder if Juniper really thinks Mackenzie Astin will be waiting for her. Or is she just looking to have an adventure, to take in the desert terrain she loves one last time, and most importantly, to find out if she will be missed.

Mackenzie screens on Saturday, Oct. 3.

HUMAN THEORIES
I laughed during the opening credits of Jess Zeidman’s Human Theories, as dozens upon dozens of cast member names spooled across the screen as though I was about to watch Ben-Hur. And I laughed even harder when the final two cast members were revealed: “Martini: The Dog” and “Chanel: The Bodega Cat.”

But all was about to come clear. Human Theories is a story of young New Yorkers as told through a series of fleeting vignettes. One person will be a minor or even background character in one scene and they will step forward in the next. But each scene is a snap shot, a microfiction account of life as a twenty-something in the city.

There are some thematic elements that recur: Cringy hookups, mansplainers, complicated dreams, idiosyncratic philosophies—but the sense I got is that Zeidman has been collecting her friends’ stories, maybe on the Notes app, and she’s sharing them with us here. Turns out there are lots of funny, awkward, poignant stories to be told.

So we see a girl at an outdoor café bump into an old acquaintance from her hometown and her boyfriend. Then the girl’s own boyfriend shows up—and she neglects to introduce him. The camera stays trained on his anticipatory and ultimately annoyed/hurt face. When the couple walks away, he confronts his girlfriend about the snub. They’re still arguing when we move to the next scene where the other couple shows up a dim sum place for dinner with friends.

“I’m freezing,” one skinny friend says, shivering in his scarf. “Is anyone else freezing?” No one else is. He stands up, saying he’s going to alert the manager. A joke follows, but I won’t ruin it here.

Every vignette feels true to life—two guys arguing over whether Wally Shawn says “inconsolable” or “inconceivable” in The Princess Bride; a guy who says “yum” when he’s hooking up, much to the disgust of his date; a bad roommate who doesn’t realize she’s the bad roommate; a girl who won’t stop sneezing at the bookstore; a guy who lives in a shithole but insists you “remove your shoes” when you come in.

It’s all funny and relatable—like the way an extremely good standup set can be. Men definitely get the worst of it. But hey, such is life in one’s 20s. The film zips by at a brisk 70 minutes. I could’ve easily watched 70 minutes more.

Human Theories screens Sunday, Oct 4.

Before the NFL’s international matchup between the Ravens and the Dallas Cowboys on Sunday—the first regular season game to ever be held in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil—a reporter asked Lamar Jackson whether the Cowboys, America’s Team, would have the crowd in Rio.

Jackson smiled and said, “Yes, but this is America. That’s Brazil. So we’ll see.”

Brazil answered him in purple. The Ravens Flock—our grassroots hometown crew that built the fanbase long before the league ever did—showed up in force, including fans who flew in from all over the world.

I was inside the Maracanã with a camera, up in the stands with the fans, shooting the crowd of more than 72,000 as much as the game itself. For those three hours, everyone was on the edge of their seat. In true Rio spirit, the energy felt more like that of a Brazilian football match than an NFL game—the kind the Maracanã bowl was built for, with nonstop chanting, booing, and going at each other across the aisles.

Every Derrick Henry carry, the place erupted. Every time Jackson pulled it down and ran, it came apart. Baltimore would score, and you could feel the roar coming off the concrete in your chest. Then Dallas would answer, and the whole thing flipped again.

It continued until the last second. Dallas tied it 31-31 with seven seconds on the clock. Then, second-year Ravens kicker Tyler Loop lined up from 56 yards to secure the win. When it went through, the stadium detonated. Helmets off, the guys stormed the field to hype Loop up.

And then, the off-the-field moment I keep coming back to: Jackson ran into the tunnel and hugged the Maracanã’s own staff. The stadium workers standing back there doing their jobs—every single one of them. Then, he ran back out to the crowd.

As you can see in my shots below, Ravens Brazil did not just show up for The Flock. They were The Flock.

Primetime starts with a creepy voice reading a chat message to an underage girl and describing, in graphic detail, what he plans to do with her. “It’s going to hurt the first time,” the voice says. “I’ll bring lubricant.”

We think the voice is of a predator, but then the camera focuses on the speaker. It’s To Catch a Predator’s Chris Hansen (Robert Pattinson), his hair neatly combed, dressed in a tan suit, practicing his entrance. He’s a different kind of predator—the reality TV sort. The more lurid the crime, the better.

And right now, he’s in his dressing room, waiting for his call time.

Downstairs, in a staged house, a teenage girl (Phoebe Bridgers)—actually a paid, of-age actress—lets a sheepish looking guy (Tony Revolori) inside. “Your parents aren’t home?” he says, his eyes darting around. She offers him homemade cookies, which he considers, then doesn’t take.

And then Chris Hansen—he always introduces himself as Chris Hansen, never just Chris—pops out and recites the messages he had memorized from the chat. “Have a seat,” he tells the now petrified suspect. It’s one of his famous catchphrases. Then, with a flourish, he delivers the other: “You see how this looks, right?”

In moments the cops are tackling the suspect to the ground, as Hansen and his crew celebrate.

Presiding over all of this is Hansen’s producer, Andie (Merritt Wever), who takes an efficient and unsentimental approach to the work. Her job is to lure and catch sexual predators and then film the moment they are caught. She’s not one to traffic in self-doubt or recrimination. She just gets shit done. And maybe she’s slightly in love with Hansen.

As for Hansen, he’s a narcissist, who loves seeing himself on TV. In one scene, he awakens his sleeping young sons, just so they can see daddy’s segment on television. In their pajamas, rubbing sleep from their eyes, they watch the predator get apprehended. Hansen has no sense of how inappropriate this content is for his children—he’s too high on self-regard.

The film largely focuses on Hansen’s attempts to snag a prominent person—the White Whale, they call him—which he hopes will bring ratings and glory and, possibly even beat the ABC competition, Lost.

Some of the crew discuss this White Whale at a Subway, as a poster of pitchman Jared smiles down at them. (The film has a twisted sense of humor—Jared, of course, was eventually arrested for child pornography and illicit sexual conduct with a minor.)

The crew recruits a starry-eyed young actor, Dan Plumb (Skyler Gisondo) to be one of the marks. He thinks this is big break but, as a jealous friend reminds him, no one remembers the decoy. In Dan’s first staged sting, a perpetrator whips out his penis. The shocked look on Dan’s face is not acting.

Primetime is directed by Lance Oppenheim with a kind of sinister finesse. It’s a tightly made film—darkly funny, compelling, and archly self-aware. But it doesn’t say anything new. Reality TV is exploitative. We know that. Ambition makes people amoral—we know that too. The film feels more like a clever, entertaining exercise than anything else.

Pattinson is great at Hansen—particularly nailing Hansen’s puffed up vanity (“This is Dateline’s Chris Hansen,” he says, calling the number on the vending machine when his Rice Krispies Treat gets stuck)—but perhaps he’s too interesting? The avuncular TV anchor blandness of Hansen’s face allowed Americans to feel safe in his presence. Pattinson is simply too weird, too intriguing to ever be called bland.

Still, he nails the Tucker Carlson-esque voice and the near glee Hansen experiences when he describes these sordid acts. Much like Dateline’s Keith Morrison who looks like a Founding Father and seems to really love murder—Hansen reveled the “gotcha” moment. Though he’s clearly doing it for the money and status, he buys into his own mythology. “We are cleansing the world of an ancient evil,” he tells Dan.

And poor Dan, a fan of musicals, who sings “Seasons of Love” in auditions (he prefers the film version of Rent to the Broadway one), is the heart of the film—the Dorothy in this sinister Oz. Freckle-faced Dan, who really does look like a kid—especially when they dress him in board shorts and striped tee shirts—just wants to act, to get a SAG card, to be famous. Instead he’s recruited into this dark underbelly. And he eventually gets good at it. Because that’s how the moral quagmire works. We go from shock to acceptance to complicity.

Baltimore has long been a beer town, thanks to generations of German and other northern European immigrants who brought their brewing traditions with them when they settled here. Brewers moved into Canton and Highlandtown, establishing so many facilities that the neighborhood became known as Brewers Hill.

Baltimore’s first commercial brewery was established in 1748 and the bottle cap was invented here, revolutionizing how beer was sealed and carbonated. The American Can Company was instrumental in establishing the commercial canning of beer in the 1930s. And the National Brewing Company, founded in Highlandtown and known locally as Natty Boh, became a Baltimore symbol—its one-eyed sign, recently restored, still shining over Brewers Hill even though the brewery itself has closed. (More on that legacy, here.)

The region’s breweries have risen, fallen, and risen again, brewing impressive varieties of the sudsy sips and providing welcome third spaces for Baltimoreans to drink, eat, and gather with friends—and more often than not, dogs.

Here’s an updated list of more than a dozen places to grab a pint and some neighborly conversation in and around Baltimore City, just in time for Oktoberfest. For even more taprooms to explore throughout the state, check out our feature, “Ain’t the Beer Cold.”  

Checkerspot Brewing Company
South Baltimore 
A few convenient blocks away from Camden Yards and M&T Bank Stadium, Checkerspot is a neighborhood hangout started by a husband-and-wife team eight years ago. Judy Neff—a certified cicerone who holds a PhD in microbiology from Johns Hopkins—is the head brewer, and her husband, Rob, handles sales and distribution. Judy also helped found Baltimore Beer Babes, a craft beer association formed to bring more women into the industry.

Those serious credentials are evident in the beer, from the Juniperus IPA made with juniper berries and the Hillbilly Gold German pilsner—also used in the house Spaghett—to the Locally Delicious sour made with strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries. Checkerspot also often works with an actual beer historian, Catonsville-based Maureen O’Prey, who advises the brewery on historic beers that they reproduce on-site.

Dogs are welcome, as evidenced by the water bowls strategically placed around the huge industrial space, and there is a kitchen offering loaded hot dogs, pizzas, quesadillas, and sandwiches. Given its proximity to the stadiums, the taproom is a go-to for pre- and post-gaming, or watching from one of the many flat screens. And occasionally in the back room? Special evens like Baltimore’s revered Stoop Storytelling Series. 

Diamondback Brewing Co. 
Locust Point
When it joined the local beer scene near McHenry Row in 2016, Diamondback quickly became a favorite for city dwellers looking to down pints of the Green Machine house IPA and Locust Point lager, either in the sleek taproom or on the massive (dog-friendly) patio.

Throughout the years, the facility—which was started by three University of Maryland grads who experimented with home-brewing in their dorm—has grown to include its own Neapolitan pizza program and host countless community events. In 2024, the founders debuted a Baltimore County outpost in Timonium, which serves Aveley Farms coffee and pastries in addition to the pies and brews.

Guilford Hall Brewery
Station North
Because Guilford’s elaborate brewing system is from the Czech Republic, they brew two Czech-style beers, a lager and a pilsner, among myriad others. Beers rotate frequently, but there are always 10 on tap. The location is remarkable, originally constructed in 1898 to house the Crown Cork & Seal Company, which manufactured metal bottle caps. (We told you they were invented in Baltimore!)

These days, Guilford Hall, which opened in 2021, upholds the property’s legacy with a bar, taproom, and outdoor beer hall, in addition to the huge brewery operation. Nearly a city block long, with 20 stainless steel tanks, Guilford’s facility is a terrific addition to Baltimore’s modern brewery culture. There’s also an on-site restaurant (fish and chips, pierogies, German-style flatbreads) that offers plenty of food to soak up all the suds. And dogs are welcome, albeit only in the outside beer garden. Not to be missed are the occasional “Profs & Pints” nights, in which academics and experts give ad hoc talks about scholarly subjects as you drink.

Guinness Open Gate Brewery 
Halethorpe
Large-scale production of Baltimore Blonde may have moved out of state, but the first modern Guinness brewery on U.S. soil is still churning out small-batch beer in its huge Halethorpe facility. Though the exterior presents more like an Amazon warehouse, inside the gates is a beer lover’s paradise—complete with an outdoor beer garden (dogs allowed) and a spacious interior that includes a gift shop, dining room, and what they call an “experimental brewery.” In other words, it’s kind of like a Guinness museum, documenting the Dublin fixture’s history dating back to 1759.

So you can brush up on Irish drinking lore while you down a pint or two of milk stout, extra stout, amber ale, IPAs, or salt-and-lime ale. To get the full experience, order from an impressive menu that includes Guinness brown bread and stout butter, London sausage rolls, bangers and mash, and, of course fish and chips.  

Heavy Seas Beer
Halethorpe
Just up the road from the Guinness (take note if you’re doing a crawl), local trailblazer Heavy Seas—founded as Clipper City Brewing by Maryland craft beer champion Hugh Sisson in 1995—is the home of some of the region’s powerhouse beers, and a seemingly endless party. The taproom hosts trivia nights, yoga, open-mic nights, book fairs, even sourdough bread workshops, all happily accompanied by the famed Loose Cannon IPAs, plus pale ales, pumpkin beers, imperial stouts, witbiers, porters, lagers, and seasonal specials.

Can’t decide? Try a flight or pick up a six pack to-go. There’s a rotating schedule of food trucks parked outside and even a house dog, named Toothless, whose duties, according to the brewery’s well-followed Instagram feed, include “crumb cleanup, vibe regulation, and the occasional emotional support shift.” 

M8 Beer
South Baltimore
Yet another brewpub in the South Baltimore Brewery District adjacent to the stadiums—with a handy parking lot across the street under Cal Ripken Way—M8 bills itself as an Australian brewpub, as the brewers use Australian hops and the original owners and staff were Australian. It has an excellent food menu, featuring fried pickle chips, salads, fish and chips, smashburgers, grilled haloumi sandwiches, and falafel burgers. The beer’s pretty good too, with witbiers, hefeweizens, blonde ales, IPAs, and various lagers. There are also seltzers, ciders, and NA options, plus a cocktail menu.

Open since 2023, the place has pool tables upstairs, plus some impressive events including rugby watch parties, plenty of Ravens football, and Murder Mystery Co. nights where diners solve crimes with dinner theater actors. An added bonus: On Fridays, teachers get 15 percent off with a valid school ID. The space is both kid- and dog-friendly, even offering a jar of biscuits to treat your furry friends. 

Ministry of Brewing
Upper Fells Point
Open since 2020 in the former St. Michael the Archangel Catholic church in Upper Fells, Ministry of Brewing is not only one of Baltimore’s best examples of “adaptive reuse,” but a bonafide community hub. When preparing to open, partners and architects preserved much of the beautiful space, as well as much of the art. Now, it hosts almost daily events, including flea markets, trivia nights, life drawing, Tarot clubs, “Beer and Ballet,” and more, as well as food trucks in the back lot.

Meanwhile, nine vats stationed where the altar once was produce stellar beer—like the Berliner Weisse, oatmeal stout, hazy IPAs, Czech-style pilsner, American porter, Bavarian hefeweizen, German kolsch, and more. There are a dozen taps under the old stations of the cross, plus recycled wooden pews, the occasional pigeon in the rafters, and the historic organ still upstairs, albeit now silent. (No dogs, sadly.) 

Mobtown Brewing Company 
Brewers Hill
While Brewers Hill was once home to so many breweries—including the National and Gunther Brewing Companies—that the neighborhood was named for them, the only one left now is Mobtown. Named after Baltimore’s 18th-century moniker, Mobtown opened in 2019 in a former Westinghouse Electric Co. factory building. The industrial space still has open ceilings, a loading dock, and, near the taps, a massive crane hook. The brick walls now boast a huge octopus mural near all the steel tanks in the back, which brew an impressive list of beers.

Mobtown highlights everything from IPAs and lagers to sour ales, porters, and stouts. They also have cider, hard seltzer, and NA drinks to tip back while enjoying trivia nights, live music, Ping Pong, and local food trucks. Plus, look out for the cushy bed that’s home to Ernie, co-owner and brewer David Carpenter’s cat, who has been in residence at Mobtown since its opening. (Ernie is very tolerant, so dogs are welcome inside the taproom.) 

Monument City Brewing Company
Highlandtown
At the intersection of East Baltimore and North Haven streets in Highlandtown, Monument City was founded by two brothers in 2013 after they initially brewed out of Peabody Heights. Four years later, Ken and Matt Praay opened their own taproom in a circa-1901 building that was once the Williamson Veneer Company. A huge brick and exposed beam space, Monument City brews not only its own beer, but, as of two years ago, it’s also a homebase for Dundalk’s Key Brewing Company. The joint collective is now known as Brewers’ Haven. 

There’s a small stage for live music; a shelf loaded with board games; two dart boards in the back; and two flatscreens showing football, baseball and Premier League games. There are almost two dozen beers on offer, both on tap and in a cooler to take home. Among them are the flagship 51 Rye IPA made with rye grain, the fan-favorite Dundalk Calling West Coast IPA, and the Mexican Hot Chocolate barrel-aged stout, and a brown ale named after the owner’s German shepherd, Abbey. (Yes, dogs are welcome.) It’s also a great spot to curate flight with pilsners, sours, hazy IPAs, a Belgian-style blonde ale, a hefeweizen, and more. There’s no food made in-house, but food trucks routinely park outside, and, even better, the excellent Korean-American restaurant, Motte, is conveniently next door, with menus on Monument’s wooden tables.  

Mystique Barrel Brewing and Lager House
Pigtown
When owner Tom Pagano took over this Washington Boulevard brewhouse in 2023, he already knew his way around. It was formerly the longtime home of Suspended Brewing, where he cut his teeth before he took the leap to open a spot of his own. As someone who is fascinated with the science behind the brewing process, Pagano specializes in mixed-fermentation options like the Quartet Saison—an aged sour made with four different yeasts and microbes.

For purists, there are three or four lagers always on tap, as well as house hard seltzers and NA sips. Eats on deck in the spacious taproom range from pierogies and pulled pork sandos to jumbo wings and a house Ruben. If you can’t decide which day to visit, consider a Sunday, when the recurring live jazz shows are a neighborhood favorite.

Nepenthe Brewing Co.
Hampden
Since early 2019, Nepenthe has occupied an inviting space with exposed brick, soaring ceilings, and dark woods off of Falls Road—just a block north of The Avenue. It’s a suitable aesthetic, especially, as in this case, the building was once a sports bar and meatpacking operation. Husband-and-wife co-owners Brian Arnold and Jill Antos have been leaders in the local beer scene since the days of Nepenthe Homebrew—their beer-making supply store that used to operate in nearby Woodberry—so they have plenty of expertise.

Utilizing a 10-barrel brew house with four fermenters and a taproom with 16 draft lines, the beers run the gamut from an American lager and a vanilla-coffee porter to three double IPAs, two sour ales, and a witbier, among others. As there’s a restaurant on-site (offering some of the best Korean cheesesteaks, tofu clubs, cheeseburgers, and frites with dipping sauces you’ll find anywhere around town), dogs are only allowed outside, but there’s plenty of sidewalk seating. Inside are three flatscreens showing sports and a full cocktail bar, as well as a rack of T-shirt merch.  

Peabody Heights Brewery
Abell
This place is worth going to not only for the excellent beer and close-knit sense of community, but for the site’s history. The location was once the site of Old Oriole Park—previously home to the Federal League Baltimore Terrapins, the International League Orioles, and the Negro National League Baltimore Elite Giants. Peabody’s taproom now stands in the former left field, which somehow seems apt for a place devoted to brewing hazy IPAs, thermal oak-aged stout, Mr. Trash Wheel’s Lost Python Ale, and the namesake Old Oriole Park Bohemian Lager.

With a revolving schedule of visiting vendors and its own Korean-fusion food truck helmed by chef Anthony Lanasa (offering burgers, kimchi quesadillas, shrimp tempura, and bibimbap), there are a lot of options to help you wash down your suds. And given its reputation for hosting non-stop get-togethers (think: trivia nights, competitive karaoke, LGBTQ+ art markets, Baltimore Record Bazaars, and Baltimore Plant Swaps) it’s no wonder we recently gave Peabody a Best of Baltimore award for Best Community Events Space.  

Pickett Brewing Company
South Baltimore
A proud member of the South Baltimore Brewery District since 2022, Pickett’s taproom features a dozen taps, as well as an open industrial space with pretty rugs, long wooden tables, comfy chairs, and a huge leather sofa. There’s also kombucha and NA beer available for the non-drinkers or those under 21. Among the beers might be a raspberry sour, a few high-ABV IPAs, a double oat brown ale, a lager, and a few pilsners, many of which are available to-go.  

Dogs are welcome, if the resident BARCS working cat, Tuna, approves, as there’s no on-site restaurant, though there are snacks and the occasional food truck. If there’s no food truck, folks are welcome to bring their own eats. On Sunday afternoons, Pickett hosts local and regional bands in its famed Big Little Bluegrass Room, “for those of us who like our IPAs with live music.”  

Union Craft Brewing
Medfield
Founded in Hampden in 2011—and now the anchor for Union Collective’s makerspace hub visible from I-83 in Medfield—Union is known for its Duckpin pale ale, Divine IPA, Zadie’s lager (an ode to co-owner Adam Benesch’s late grandfather Henry “Zadie” Benesch, who worked at the brewery until he passed away at the age of 101), and Steady Eddie IPA (named after Orioles legend Eddie Murray). As evidenced by the beer names, Union takes its Baltimore roots very seriously, so it’s no surprise they have pretty great merch, too.

Dog-friendly and frequently hosting SPCA events, sports watch parties, and big concerts, Union is a true neighborhood watering hole. While hanging out in the taproom, be sure to stop into the photobooth and grab some grub from the on-site restaurant, Carroll & Son Fine Foods, which serves items like blue catfish tacos, cheesesteaks, crab dip, and cheeseburgers that go great with beer.  

Waverly Brewing Company
Woodberry
Open since 2015 in a former commercial equipment rental facility just off the JFX, Waverly Brewing Company is the opposite of most of the brewpubs on this list. It’s a deeply idiosyncratic spot that looks like something between your granny’s house and your dad’s garage—in the best way possible. Everywhere you look, you’ll find something like a life-sized cut-out of Cal Ripken, over-stuffed chairs, taxidermy heads on the wall, or Christmas lights. There’s a list of current beers scrawled on a chalkboard, a shelf full of big ceramic mugs belonging to regulars, and a jar of dog treats behind the bar.

Started by local musicians and artists, it’s now owned by brewer Roy Fisher, who began home-brewing when he was 13, and Melissa Yukna, a mother of four who is often behind the bar. There is no trivia, no karaoke, no live music, no booze, wine, or food—though Blue Pit BBQ & Whiskey Bar is conveniently around the corner. But they do host the Baltimore Honky Tonk country-western dance parties, as well as occasional weddings, neighborhood potlucks, even a funeral once. “The only way this makes sense is for us is to play small-ball,” says Yukna one evening, as a small group of folks—including a woman knitting a hat—order pints.

Wet City
Mt. Vernon
The name of this Mt. Vernon microbrewery is a nod to Maryland’s resistance to Prohibition—it was the only state in the union that refused to pass laws to reinforce it—which seems particularly fitting when you pull up a seat at the blonde-wood bar and take in the long row of taps and shelves of booze.

The welcoming neighborhood joint just celebrated a decade in business, brewing hazy IPAs, amber lagers, American stouts, fruited sours, and bourbon-barrel-aged marzens. They also brew signature beers for local businesses like Fadensonnen, Royal Blue, Snake Hill, and Mera Kitchen Collective. It’s all perfectly paired with the food menu, featuring items like fried pickles, kimchi tots, pimento-cheese chicken sandwiches, and ancho double smashburgers. Add all-night happy hours and food specials (wing nights, Taco Tuesdays, Whiskey Wednesdays)—plus a vinyl station in the back with two turntables and shelves of records—and you’ll forgive them for not allowing dogs.

---

Others worth the drive: BC Brewery, Big Truck Farm Brewery, Farmacy Brewing, Inverness Brewing, and more here. 

Before social media and shortened attention spans, it was more common to lay out a photo album for visitors in the family home. That ritual is rarer now that we post everything online, which is partly why the latest show by Baltimore-based photojournalist, educator, and activist Devin Allen is so unique. It’s a tribute to his upbringing and the photography he’s always been surrounded by. 

Allen inherited many of his firsts from his maternal grandmother—Dorothy Marie Green, lovingly known as “Dort”—including his first car and camera, which he bought using her Best Buy credit card. (He paid her back with interest.) She also gave him his first house.

That house came out of loss. Allen’s grandfather worked for Bethlehem Steel and died of lung cancer. In 1976, his grandmother used the insurance money, along with the last of her savings, to buy a house in Liberty Heights. It became the family home, where everyone lived or stayed at some point—the hub for Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and summer cookouts.

That house is where Allen found the hundreds of photos that would become the heart of his latest exhibition, She Saw Me Coming, on view at the Charm City Cultural Cultivation (CCCC) HQ in Waverly through Dec. 4. He was encouraged by CCCC founder Derrick Adams’ Black Baltimore Digital Database, which safeguards archival material documenting local Black history and culture. The show features roughly 24 images from the family album, spanning the late 1970s through the late 1980s.

“We feel very honored to have Devin present this really personal work that highlights his mom and his relationship with his family, because that’s what we really try to project into the city and beyond—that we have such a rich history here,” Adams says. “I think this exhibition is going to expand a lot of the conversations around Devin’s work, but also around how the spaces we have in Baltimore have been influential to building the next generation of critical thinkers.”

In honor of the opening, we interviewed Allen about grieving, healing, the importance of a Black domestic archive, and his lesser known—but very Baltimore—talent.

Tell us about the title She Saw Me Coming.
I wanted to rewrite my origin story. Usually, when I talk about how I got into photography, I say I found poetry, then I found [legendary Black photographer, composer, and filmmaker] Gordon Parks, and then I became a photographer. As I went through my grandmother’s stuff, I started understanding that yo, she’s a photographer in her own right, and I don’t think that she ever looked at herself as one. But she loved our family, and she would document and take pictures all the time.

I found hundreds of images of my grandmother either taking pictures or making someone take pictures of her. She used to carry a camera with her, like a disposable or something, and then I was like, oh snap, I grew up with photography, and maybe she laid the foundation for me becoming a photographer unknowingly. So that’s why the show is called She Saw Me Coming.

You mentioned poetry. Expand on that journey a bit. Were you good at it? How did it serve as a springboard into photography?
I was a horrible poet. I started doing poetry because I was a party promoter, and my homeboy said women love poets. I was writing stuff to make people laugh, and I could never memorize the words. It was an interesting time in Baltimore where I felt like everybody around me was changing or trying to find themselves.

My friend Josh Austin, who I went to high school and played basketball with, was an amazing poet, you know, and he was the one who was like, “Let’s do events together.” We started doing poetry on Tuesdays. You had Kleon, who was doing comedy shows on Wednesdays in the same space down South Baltimore. Then I had a friend, Gee Songzz, he was doing skits. DJ No ID started DJing, but we were all doing stuff in the same space in the same area and trying to figure it out. And I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do, so poetry was the segue to me becoming a photographer.

What themes does this show grapple with that you maybe haven’t explored in the past?
This show is something totally different. I don’t care if anyone likes it. I don’t care if anyone comes to see it. It’s me trying to cope with the fact that I lost my mother, Gail Allen, in January. I told her I was going to do this. She was excited about it. I wanted to honor that. I won a grant for the show from the Working Assumptions Project in Berklee, California, which focuses on people that work with family photography and historical scans—stuff like that. This show was also to honor my grandmother, who has dementia. So even in doing the show, she doesn’t know who I am. I’m coming to terms with becoming the patriarch now. 

I want people to understand that our stories are important. No story is too small. I think that’s what helps people heal. That’s what you do when you have a platform. So it’s like, alright, your mother dies. What do you do with that? My mother is dead, and I want to create something I know she’d be proud of. I have images of her going to graduation, her standing in the living room, and my grandmother dancing before she goes out. I’m grieving, I’m coping, but also, I’m healing, too.

“This show is something totally different. I don’t care if anyone likes it. I don’t care if anyone comes to see it…This is me coming to terms with becoming the patriarch now.”

Outside of being your mother, who was Gail Allen?
Gail Denise Allen, the woman who changed the spelling of her own name. The woman who transferred schools without her mother knowing so she could graduate early. A woman who worked for the FBI in forensics. She was an anomaly coming out of the hood, coming from Park Heights, and from a grandmother from North Carolina.

She changed what it is to be a Black woman for me. She set the tone. I think she was a superhero. She was the epitome of what it is to be a Black woman. She wore her natural hair—never had any fake hair in her head. She rocked a feather wrap or a short cut, a bumper curl. She was that girl. She dated some of the biggest drug dealers, and she lived her truth. She made mistakes, and understood them. My father was one of the biggest mistakes. She talked about it all the time. She was a mother. She was a daughter. She was an aunt. She took care of all of us. Up until her last day, she took care of my grandmother. That’s why the show is so important. Gail was an anomaly, a girl from West Baltimore who beat the odds.

Are there any specific pieces in the show that honor your mom?
I’m showing self-portraits that I was meant to take with my mother, but she passed before I could get the images that I wanted—inspired by Carrie Mae Weems’ Kitchen Table Series. I’m using negative light to show spaces she would sit in her house.

Can you share more about the inspiration for the show from the Black Baltimore Digital Database? Why does it matter that these everyday family photos are preserved and on display?
When it comes to the world of Black photography, I’ve been blessed to meet some of my predecessors that are idolized. When I watched [the 2014 documentary] Through a Lens Darkly, recommended to me by Aaron Bryant, a curator at the Smithsonian who used to work at Morgan, I learned about how Black history has never been a part of the American story, even though it is very American. White people’s history is heavily documented, but no one cared to think that we were part of those stories. 

We have documented ourselves for so long, but have not been privileged enough to show [work] in our own spaces, even to this day. I think growing up in the hood and in Black spaces, sometimes we minimize or shrink ourselves. Our stories are so verbal that we leave it up to the next generation to pass those down. But our work should be in museums. Our stories should go beyond sitting at the dining room table. Even the most mundane things, from Thanksgiving or your aunt making deviled eggs. That photograph, whether it’s on an old 35 millimeter or on your phone, is a part of American history, and it cannot be unwritten. Because being Black in America is a form of activism. I think we should show that. 

“Growing up in Black spaces, sometimes we shrink ourselves. Our stories are so verbal that we leave it to the next generation to pass them down. But our work should be in museums. Our stories should go beyond  the dining room table.”

You’re known for your iconic photography of the Baltimore Uprising and local Black joy and resistance. But this show is obviously a more personal story about your ancestry and legacy. Is there anything else you want people to understand about you that they might not already?
A lot of people don’t know that, generationally, I’m a dancer. [In Baltimore], we say “Oh he a cutter,” which means he can cut a rug or he is cutting up. So me? A dancer. Grandma? A dancer. Before her dementia, we used to hand dance. I used to hand dance with my mom all the time, too. My mom was a dancer. I got it from her. My mom was a DJ. She loved music. So a lot of people who grew up with me know that I can dance. I used to hit backflips in the club and crazy leg and SpongeBob and everything. My dad? He used to be down Melbas on Greenmount Avenue cutting up to some good music. I’m a clubber, a dancer. I love music.

What else is currently on view or coming up for you?
Devin Allen and D. Watkins: Baltimore at the Gordon Parks Foundation Gallery in New York is coming down soon. I worked with BmoreArt on their photography art book that’s coming out, alongside Joe Giordano, Cara Ober, and their amazing team. The BMA also has its first photography show coming up, Flashback: Two Centuries of Baltimore Photography, which I have a couple of images in. That’s big, finally getting Baltimore photographers and artists seen collectively in the museum. It opens Oct. 4. [More on the exhibit can be found in our October 2026 issue.]

Move over pumpkin spice—it’s apple season.

The burnt-orange blend often gets all of the credit as the top fall flavor, but, as the air gets cooler, we’re suckers for crunchy leaves, cozy crackling fires, and, best of all, crisp local apples. This time of year, Maryland orchards and farms are dotted with the tart fruits, which, of course, bring apple cider in all forms—hot, cold, boozy, slushified, or even baked into warm, sugar-coated donuts.

Below, find the best spots to get your apple-picking and apple cider fix around Baltimore and its surrounding counties.

Baugher’s Orchard and Farms

1015 Baugher Road, Westminster. Fridays through Sundays in September-October. 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. $4 entrance fee. Kids under 3 are free. 

The family-run farm has been in operation since 1904. Visit its Orchard Market for warm apple cider donuts, apple fritters, apple dumplings, deep-dish pies, and apple cider—all made in-house.

Buppert’s Doran’s Chance Farm

6914 Ridge Road, Marriottsville. April-Nov: Mon.-Fri: 9:30 a.m. to 6 p.m.; Weekends: 9:30 a.m. to 5 p.m. Free entry. 

With its scratch-made apple cider, hay rides, corn maze, and petting zoo, Buppert’s is the ultimate family-friendly fall destination. Tip back a cup of cider while fully embracing the spirit of the harvest season. Other apple treats include apple cinnamon granola, Jewish apple cake muffins, and apple-scented candles.

Chapel Hills Farm and Nursery

4350 Chapel Road, Perry Hall. Monday-Friday: 9 a.m.-6 p.m. Saturday-Sunday: 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Free entry 

This Perry Hall community farm continues the fun every weekend throughout October. Taste all of the apple-y goodness of Chapel Hills’ sugary apple cider donuts while enjoying tasty bites, live music, haunted hay rides, and activities for kids.

Gaver Farm

5501 Detrick Road, Mt. Airy; 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. daily through Nov. 1; Free entry to market. Fall Fun Fest admission is $20 per person on September weekends; $24 per person on October weekends; and $14.50 per person on weekdays. Kids under 24 months are free.

While strolling around this Mt. Airy mainstay, be sure to swing by the farm market for decadent apple cider donuts baked fresh daily during the season. Plus, sip on frosty apple cider slushies, explore a seven-acre corn maze, and meet all of the friendly animals in the petting zoo.

Homestead Gardens’ Harvest Weekends

743 West Central Avenue, Davidsonville; Weekends: 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Online tickets only, $15 per person; Kids 3 years and under (and dogs) are free; Seniors (55+) get $5 off.

Every weekend from Sept. 26-Nov. 1, the pop-up food court at this community outpost offers hot cider and apple cider donuts guaranteed to have you going back for seconds. Additionally, each weekend, snag tickets for their Fall Festival with activities like tractor rides, face painting, pony rides, and live music in the barnyard. See the full schedule, here.

Larriland Farm

2415 Woodbine Rd. Woodbine. Through Oct. 31. Tuesday-Friday: 9 a.m.-6 p.m. Weekends: 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Free entry. 

If you haven’t tried the famous apple fritters at this pick-your-own paradise in Woodbine—sandwiched between Sykesville and Mt. Airy—you’re in for a treat this season. The fried fritters sprinkled with requisite powdered sugar are among the apple-flavored treats available in the farm’s market, which also sells gallons of cider, apple butter, pies, and more.

Lohr’s Orchard

Retail store: 3301 Churchville Road, Aberdeen. Monday-Sunday: 8:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. Free entry

Farm store: 3212 Snake Lane, Churchville. 9:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. daily beginning in October. Free entry. 

As the leaves start to change, Lohr’s farm and retail stand becomes filled with apples galore. A 100-year family tradition, their fresh-pressed apple cider is a must try. For something to satisfy your sweet tooth, taste the fall flavors infused in their homemade pumpkin and apple cider donuts.

Magnolia Meadow Farms

13001 Creagerstown Road, Thurmont; Sat. 10 a.m.-8 p.m., Sun. 10 a.m.-6 p.m.; $17 general admission online in advance, $22 at the gate. Children under two are free. 

This daily farmstead, opened in 2022, returns for the fall season, offering apple cider donuts, hot cider, caramel apples, kettle corn, a zipline, live music, slides, and a corn maze that is billed as Maryland’s largest. To really get the full experience, order the signature apple cider float, which tops local cider with vanilla soft serve, caramel sauce, whipped cream, and a cider donut. That’s one way to start the season of sweets off right.

The Maryland Corn Maze

389 Gambrills Road, Gambrills. Select weekends from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. (Check the website for special offers and events.) $17.95. Military receive $1 discount. 

This eight-acre maze of twists and turns has been a family tradition since 2006. Get lost in this year’s Toy Story-themed maze before winding down with a cup of juicy apple cider or a glacial slushy. Plus, treat yourself for crossing the finish line with an order of sweet cider donuts and other carnival eats.

Montpelier Farms

1720 Robert S. Crain Highway, Upper Marlboro; Sat. 10 a.m.–9 p.m., Sun. 10 a.m –6 p.m.; $19.95 general admission to weekend festivals. Free entry to market and bakery during business hours. 

Visit this farm’s welcoming market and donut shop for bites like apple cider donuts, caramel apples, kettle corn, fresh roasted cinnamon-glazed nuts, and more. And, of course, wash down all of the treats with hot, cold, or slushie ciders made onsite. While you enjoy the eats and drinks, partake in activities like a seven-acre corn maze, live animals, giant slides, and fall games.

Red Shedman Farm Brewery

13601 Glissans Mill Road, Mt. Airy; Fri.-Sat. 12-8 p.m., Sun. 12 p.m.-6 p.m. Free. 

In our humble opinion, the best time to discover a new hard cider is when apples, picked straight from the orchard, are in season. Boasting more than 200 acres of farmland, Red Shedman offers options like the refreshing dry-hopped hard cider.

Richardson Farms 

5900 Ebenezer Rd. White Marsh. 8 a.m.-6 p.m. daily.

At this one-stop-shop for seasonal goodies—which also boasts its own full-service deli and prepared foods department—produce is either picked straight from the family’s fields or sourced from other local purveyors. Grab a cart, get lost in the greenhouse full of vintage fall decor, and load up on autumn treats, like caramel apples and spiced Jewish apple cakes, before you head home.

Shaw Orchards

5594 Norrisville Rd, White Hall. Mon-Fri 8 a.m.-6 p.m., Sat. 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Free entry. 

Located right on the Mason-Dixon line, this historic family business has been in operation for 117 years. Purchase their homemade apple cider in gallons and half gallons, and munch on sugary apple cider donuts by the dozen. Get your hands dirty with pick-your-own apples (based on availability) and pumpkins—and more produce—throughout the season, as well.

Weber’s Cider Mill Farm

2526 Proctor Lane, Parkville. 9 a.m.-7 p.m. daily.  Free entry.

Featuring the oldest cider mill still in use in the state, Weber’s hones in on family tradition as it has for generations. Available September through December, the farm’s fresh-pressed apple cider blends the flavors of four or more apple varieties. For a refreshing take on their famous drink, try the fan-favorite icy Apple Slush. Plus, swing by Weber’s Bakery to indulge in other apple-centric treats—including apple cider donuts, pies, and cakes—all made fresh on the farm daily.

Willow Oaks Craft Cider and Wine

6219 Harley Road, Middletown. Weekends 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Free entry. 

Sip on Willow Oaks’ many hard ciders made with organic apples—plus pears and blueberries—that are grown and fermented right on the farm. Can’t choose just one? Plan a cider tasting and relax on the deck or in the garden as you sample each spiked blend.

Fact checking assistance by Gabrielle Plaag

At 11:03 a.m. last Sunday, NASA commander Reid Wiseman popped into his group chat with the Artemis II crew, acknowledging that it had been five months since they flew around the moon together. He said he still couldn’t believe it. Neither could they. “Disbelief.” “It was nuts.” “Can’t believe we did it,” the team responded. 

As Wiseman recounts the exchange, he’s back on solid—and more familiar—ground, calling from a downtown hotel. “It’s great to be home,” he says. For the 50-year-old, home is Cockeysville’s Springdale neighborhood, where he launched model rockets over the Loch Raven Reservoir as a kid, and where his older brother cut the grass at the homes of Orioles players. As a student at Warren Elementary, Wiseman watched the Challenger disaster on TV, which first made him wonder about space.

After graduating from Dulaney High in Timonium in 1993, his trajectory ran through Navy ROTC at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, a commission in the Navy flying fighter jets, and test pilot duty at Naval Air Station Patuxent River starting in 2004. He earned a master’s in systems engineering from Johns Hopkins in 2006. Then he applied to NASA. In 2009, they called. 

Wiseman rocketed from Kazakhstan in 2014 and spent 165 days on the International Space Station, where his photos from orbit drew a big following. But he truly gained star status this April, when the world watched as the father of two commanded the first crewed moon mission since 1972, flying farther from Earth than any humans before on a nearly 10-day voyage. 

Like any good Baltimorean, Wiseman is also a big Orioles and Ravens fan. This weekend, his hometown teams are set to give him a hero’s welcome: a ceremonial first pitch at Camden Yards on Saturday afternoon and a turn as the first “Leader of The Uprising” in the Ravens’ revamped pregame show on Sunday. 

Ahead of the big weekend, we caught up with Wiseman about his love of local sports, what it was like reaching the far side of the moon (including the moment that made so many of us choke up), and the biggest lesson he brought back from a quarter-million miles away. Spoiler: It’s a good one. 

A BALTIMORE FAN 

What does all of this mean to you, to be recognized in such a big way by your hometown?
I would use the word proud, but it’s not necessarily pride in myself. It’s pride in Baltimore, in Maryland, my hometown—all the people having something to cheer for. And to get to do it at Camden Yards, I have a lot of childhood memories there. Memorial Stadium first, and then Camden Yards. Coming into Baltimore last Sunday, I saw the entire city walking around in purple. It’s going to be phenomenal to be on the field for kickoff at the Ravens home opener. I just can’t believe it.  

You mentioned Memorial Stadium. Were you ever a Colts fan, or were you too young?
I knew of the Colts because my dad was a huge Colts fan, and I remember the Mayflower moving trucks. I didn’t understand what was really going on, but I just remember my dad being heartbroken. Memorial Stadium for me is primarily Eddie Murray and Cal Ripken cutting their teeth, welcoming them home as World Series champions in 1983, that sort of thing. I definitely remember sitting in the outfield pounding on the bleachers with my hands. I remember the [21] losses in a row [to start the 1988 season], and then when we redid Opening Day out at Memorial Stadium. I went to that game. 

What are some other Ravens and Orioles memories that stand out for you?
When the Ravens came here, my dad and his friends all bought a little Volkswagen minibus and painted it purple. Around the neighborhood everybody was hanging Ravens flags, and we all had the Raven call that we would yell to each other across the street. 

After I flew to the space station in 2014, the Ravens played the Texans in Houston [where Wiseman has lived for years, near NASA headquarters] and I met the team. I gave them what was titled a pep talk, and then they lost. So I told Harbaugh, “Never bring me to another game.” But they’re such a great organization. I did a podcast with Ray Lewis once, and he invited me out to lunch. I still haven’t taken him up on that. I got to get on that.  

As far as the Orioles go, my brother [Bill] used to mow Cal Ripken’s lawn, and we used to drive by his house. He lived pretty close to us after he moved into his larger house. As a kid, you would just stand at the gates with the cursive R on them and drool, like “God, I’d love to be a baseball legend.” I got a Topps Traded set to get the Cal Ripken rookie card. All that stuff is tied to my childhood. 

Wait, your brother cut Cal’s lawn?
Cal Ripken lived in a little complex, Warren Common, that was embedded in Springdale, near where we lived, and that is where my brother says he mowed his lawn. He says he mowed Cal, Eddie Murray, and Scott McGregor’s lawns when he was in high school.  

Who’s in town with you? Are your daughters, Katey and Ellie, coming to the games?
They’re at college. There’s no way I was going to get them out of Texas A&M for this weekend. But my brother’s flying in. I’ll have my dad. My girlfriend is coming in. For the Orioles game, last I heard, 150 of my high school acquaintances—I can’t even say friends—have seats in the outfield, so that should be pretty epic.

You famously wore a Chris Davis shirt on the space station back in 2014. Did any local sports apparel or memorabilia make it into the capsule this time? 
Artemis II is a very small spacecraft, so only a few little odds and ends made it, but I took no sports paraphernalia. I did take some Maryland flags, but no shirts.

AROUND THE MOON 

Looking back on the Artemis II mission, now five months after splashdown, how do you process it all? 
It was more impactful than any of us expected. Just the sense of awe and wonder. There’s so much blackness in space, and yet there’s this little tiny Earth that’s smaller than your thumb when you’re a quarter million miles away, and it’s the only thing we know that can support life in this entire system. You get this feeling of yearning to be back there and to be reintegrated as a part of it. It was very overwhelming. 

Feeling the wind on my face back on Earth was…a beautiful thing. Watching a tulip come up out of the ground in New York City stopped me in my tracks. And then getting to see your family. When we came around the far side of the moon, the thing that was most on my mind was, “I hope I get to see my kids again.” When we got back—I saw it in all the crew members—it was just a total euphoria, and it lasted for a few weeks. There was just nothing that I could be upset about. I think we still carry a lot of that with us. We know what it’s like to have been completely extricated from the planet. 

Somebody just sent me an article about how “crisis is the ultimate editor.” When people are on a plane and they’re scared, they never text their loved one, “I hate you.” They only text, “I love you.” When you’re completely removed from the planet, the only thing that fills your body is joy, hope, peace, love. It’s the only thing. The Apollo astronauts said the same sorts of things. We just had so much hope for humanity. There was no other emotion out there at all. No frustration, no anger. 

How do you describe what the launch and the sensations of being in space felt like?
This rocket was 8.8 million pounds of fuel and metal. We expected it to really vibrate, a lot of shaking, a lot of lateral oscillations. But in the end, the launch was just powerful and smooth. You’re under about three times Earth’s gravity at about two minutes into the flight, so you have a really good sense of being pushed back in your seat. You’re also upside down and you’re accelerating down range, so your head is down towards the Earth, your feet are up towards space. And when the solid rocket motors came off, that relaxed our G-force down to about a half a G, and I actually felt like I was almost hanging upside down on a jungle gym, but we were still accelerating into space.

When we got above the atmosphere, you could see the curvature of the Earth and the black of space. A few moments later, the moon rose completely unexpectedly, and we were pointed straight at it. It was unreal. It’s only a nine-minute ride into space, and I just did not expect to see the moonrise, and neither did my pilot Victor Glover. We were just like, “You got to be kidding me.”  

When you went around the far side of the moon, you lost contact with Earth, as expected, for about 40 minutes. Were the emotions in those moments what you anticipated?
Everyone on Earth wants that to be a dramatic moment. But for the crew, that is the period when we were closest to the moon, so that is when our science objectives were at their absolute peak. Just like watching a sunset on a beach, it’s really hard to take your eyes away from watching the Earth set behind the moon. It was beautiful.

When the Earth was fully set behind the moon, we broke into some maple cookies [supplied by Canadian crewmember Jeremy Hansen], honored the moment for a second, and then Victor and Christina [Koch] went right back into science. We knew that Mission Control couldn’t call us, so we were keeping a close eye on the status of the vehicle, but honestly, it was very peaceful.  

One of the most talked-about moments of the entire mission was when the crew proposed naming a crater after your late wife, Carroll, who passed away from cancer in 2020. Did you know that was coming?
It was Christina’s idea, and Jeremy and I had talked about it a few days prior to launch. When he proposed it to me, I said, “That is an extremely noble idea, and I am all for that. I just can’t make the speech.”

Jeremy’s speech was so well done. He and my late wife were so close. Jeremy and his wife, Catherine, hung out with me and Carroll all the time. When he started spelling out her name—I’m getting goosebumps right now—that was the moment that defined that whole event for me. For the crew, it brought us together in a truly emotional way for the first time. We had been very kind to each other. We’d been giving each other a ton of grace, but this was the first time we were emotionally bonded on the mission.  

And it really connected with people on Earth. I do want people to know life goes on. Life is for the living. My life is about honoring my loved ones, honoring the past, honoring everybody that I see on a daily basis, just trying to be a good person. There is grieving, then there’s moving on, and then there’s living. 

That was an enormous human moment to watch. My son is also named Reid. While we were watching the Artemis coverage I told him, “There’s a guy named Reid from Baltimore going around the moon.” What do you hope that kids growing up in Baltimore, or anywhere, take away from what you guys accomplished?
For the youth right now, stay curious about the world around you, and if you live in Maryland, you’re in a great place to be curious. You can do anything you want in Maryland. You can go hiking in beautiful hills. You can watch the leaves change. You can go to the Chesapeake Bay. You can go fishing. You can go down the beach. You can bodyboard or surf some waves. This is a pretty special place, and as a kid, sometimes you lose sight of that because you just haven’t seen the world yet. 

The other thing I would say to kids right now is, don’t be afraid to fail. Everybody right now wants to find success quickly and easily. That’s just not reality. If you want to be successful, it takes a lot of hard work. My crew was successful, but we weren’t lucky. This mission was successful because NASA put in a lot of hard work with our international community. 

COMING BACK DOWN TO EARTH

We have so many things happening down here on Earth that can stress us out. How did you manage anxiety when you were heading to the moon?
There’s two ways I want to answer this. First, there’s the visible anxiety. I still sometimes get anxious on a commercial airliner flying from Baltimore back to Houston. I don’t love that of loss of control. We do a lot of outdoor training where we’re hiking for 10 days without any food and we’re just trying to live off the land. We do a lot of scuba diving. We’re always out doing things. When you do that, you start to get a little more accustomed to that level of stress. As an astronaut, we call it “stress inoculation.” You get over anxiety by doing things, by putting yourself in uncomfortable positions and understanding, “I just went this far. I can go a little farther.”   

The other side of that is, as a human, the way that I got to this state of peace while on the mission was I tried to close every open question mark in my brain, at every level. I talked to all of my friends, told them what they meant to me. Everyone in my life knew where they stood. It was like a living wake. My kids knew exactly who their caretakers would be if I didn’t come back. They knew where the trust documents were. It’s not a comfortable thing to talk about, but it is required. And we did all of that.

And the four of us also talked as a crew, “Hey, how are we going to handle it if we know we’re going to die, but we have a couple of days before the event is actually going to happen?” Like if there’s a failure, and we know the parachutes aren’t going to open, and it’s going to be a horrible ending. We talked through all of that, and we decided we would just try to handle it with dignity and give each other grace because we don’t know how we’re going to respond in that moment. But closing all those unknowns in our minds allowed us to launch ready for, and be at peace with, truly any outcome.

That’s so very powerful. 
That’s the message that I’ll carry forward from this mission, what I most learned from it. 

What’s next for you? Will you go back to the moon? Mars? 
I wrestled with this a lot. And it’s the question of, “What is one more thing?” If I’m doing it, I’m taking it from someone else. At 50 years old, I’ve flown in the Navy, I’ve been around the world many times, and I flew two missions, one to the space station and one to the moon. I’m very content right now. It’s not an easy job. It’s not easy on family. It’s not easy on the human body. So I’m good right now. I want to watch other people go do this, and I’ll be rooting them on. I don’t expect to fly in space again.  

Is there anything you want people in Baltimore to know that we haven’t talked about?
I would ask everybody to just think through their lives. Some people are going to be happy, some are going to be sad, some are going to be having tough days, and some are going to be having good days. But in all of that, everyone should think of one thing here, in this town, that they’re savoring right now.

It could be the fall weather, it could be sports teams, it could be their family, or just the fact that they have a place to go walk around. I don’t know. But you can pull one thing out every day that you’re savoring, and if you just do that, it makes your life a lot happier. There’s always something to savor. 

September often brings a classic icebreaker to offices and classrooms everywhere: what did you do this summer? For 17-year-old Maisie Rehkemper, the highlight is pretty clear. She was one of approximately 40 students across the country to be accepted into GRAMMY Camp (yes, of those Grammys) in New York City this past August.   

Maisie is a senior studying music production at George Washington Carver Center for Arts and Technology in Towson, and the only student in the Baltimore area to be accepted into the program. Presented by the nonprofit GRAMMY Museum in Los Angeles—which works to preserve music culture and nurture up-and-coming artists—the week-long intensives in Nashville, Miami, Los Angeles, and New York train high school students interested in pursuing a career in music, offering tracks on everything from songwriting and jazz to music business and production. 

As she settles back into the school year, we caught up with Rehkemper to reflect on what she learned from the pros. 

What is it about music production and sound engineering that interests you most?
I’ve been playing instruments and performing in bands since I was 6 years old. I played ukulele for a couple years, then I went to guitar, then I went to drums, and then I went to bass, which I stuck with. Growing up, performing on stage with these little kid bands, I was having so much fun, and as I got older, I was just more curious as to how it all worked. Once I started interning at local music schools, it was way cooler getting to know and hear the differences in music that I really couldn’t hear before.  

Where did you first hear about GRAMMY Camp, and what interested you in applying?
Last summer, I was at a bunch of different music camps, like a pre-college program at Stevens Institute of Technology [in Hoboken, New Jersey]—which is one of my top college choices—and a program at the Blackbird Academy in Nashville, Tennessee, a legit recording studio. I wanted to do more this summer because they were so fun and I learned so much. My brother is at Berklee in Boston, and some of his friends have previously gone to GRAMMY Camp. They got me to actually take the steps to apply. 

What was the application process like?
For production, we had to submit two pieces. One I wrote with my band, Saltbox, because we were recording an EP at the time, so I got the files and I did a mix on them. And the other one I recorded all myself. It was a cover of “Comfort of a Laugh Track” by Roar. I got to do piano and guitar and sing and try to type in drums. Making the cover all by myself was the first real project I’ve actually done outside of school. Once I finally put them all together, I wrote a little paragraph about each song and what I did with it, and I had to do a video essay. 

Describe the feeling when you found out you were accepted.
I honestly couldn’t believe that I got picked, because it’s such a small group of people. It was so cool, and I had to be kind of secretive about it because we weren’t allowed to tell anyone until May, and I found out in April. But I was super, super excited. It was so surreal.  

What was the first day like?
It was actually really overwhelming. Once we went into our smaller groups, it was super fast-paced. Our teacher, Jason Goldman—his producer name is Spicy G—had us make a drum track, loop it in five minutes, and then add something on. But it was really cool because I didn’t think I could do that. While it was fun and exciting, it was also stressful because I realized I was the only girl in the program. It was a little awkward, but it wasn’t unexpected because that’s usually how it is in every music production [program] I’ve been to.  

Speaking of those experiences, you founded the Women in Sound Engineering club at your school. Tell us more about that.
During my program last year at Stevens Institute of Technology, I started realizing that it’s a very male-dominated field, and I wanted to bring some sort of light to women in audio tech. Stevens is partnered with this program called We Are Moving the Needle, and they’re all about women in male-dominated fields, especially in music and music production.

So I started this club at my school inspired by We Are Moving the Needle. I think I had 15 people sign up, but I’m pretty much just showing them how I work Ableton [software] and going over industry stuff. This year I really want to get the club more involved in venues and performances, something to do with our music concerts at our school,  rather than just me teaching and rambling about all this sound design stuff.  

What were some highlights of your week at camp?
Well, first of all, it was kind of like a mini music industry all in one building. So we were encouraged to work with songwriters and vocalists, or musical theater [students], or a jazz band. I got to record these two songwriters, and I’d never recorded someone else before by myself. I had so much fun working with them, and then also editing and adding guitar, drums, bass, and other harmonies and synths. The song really came to life.  

The main highlight was probably meeting [actor, singer, and Broadway star] Frankie Grande [Ariana Grande’s brother] and [jazz singer] Samara Joy. The guest artists are often previous Grammy winners. We got to do a Q&A with them, and Samara Joy actually played for us. She brought her whole band, and they were up on the panel with her, so we got to ask them questions, too.   

What are the biggest takeaways from camp that will stick with you, especially as you head back into the school year?
I feel like I walked away with real industry experience, especially getting to work with someone who was very blunt and had no cushion when he would tell us how he felt about our work. He kept saying that we had to love a song that we were working on—we couldn’t just like it. So every time I would ask him to listen to my piece, he would be like, “Do you love it yet?” And I was like, “Well, maybe.” And he was like, “Don’t show it to me until you love it.” So, I learned a lot about that work ethic. It was like a launching pad.  

Anything else we should know about your projects?
My band, Saltbox, just put out an EP earlier this summer. We recorded an album last year, and I think that’s what really flipped the switch in my brain where I became interested in everything that goes into the production. We were in our drummer’s family friend’s home studio, and getting to see him clicking all around and twisting all these knobs, I was just so interested. I wanted to do that. So that was pretty much the turning point. Since then I just fully jumped into it. 

We may not see or hear them, but they’re around—especially near Halloween. We’re talking about ghosts: the looming souls of the departed that have a tendency to oscillate between the dead and living realms.

If your heartbeat excitedly starts to quicken at the thought of making contact with the paranormal, the Baltimore area offers a handful of historical walking tours around sights that spirits have been known to frequent. Here are a few worth checking out:

Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays through Oct. 31: Haunted Hampden Ghost Tours
The Hampden Village Merchants Association is bringing back these group tours around the neighborhood’s hauntingly historic spots. (Opt for a family-friendly stroll, or a boo-zy crawl for the 21-and-over crowd.) Mosey along the Avenue to grab eats and drinks and take in old sites—all while learning eerie fun facts from costumed guides. Tour starts at ACCE High School, 1300 W. 36th St.  Start times are 6:30, 7, and 7:30 p.m. $25 (all-aged) and $30 (pub crawl) tickets include discounts at participating businesses.

Oct. 2, 3, 24: Mt. Vernon GhostWalk
It only makes sense that this historic Baltimore City neighborhood would house some otherworldly spirits. While scoping out the area’s historic architecture with a tour guide, hear the stories of a failed Mount Vernon séance and guests who never left the storied Belvedere Hotel. The Belvedere Hotel. 1 Chase St. $20.

Oct. 17: Spirits of the Furnace
In Thurmont, this nighttime tour with the Catoctin Furnace Historical Society—which works to preserve the history of one of Maryland’s first iron furnaces—acquaints participants with spirits looming in its nearby village. Flashlights and sturdy shoes are recommended for the dramatized tour, which includes spooky scenes based on real happenings. 12610 Catoctin Furnace Rd. Thurmont. 6:30 p.m. $12-18.

Through Nov. 21: Ellicott City History Tours & Savage Mill Ghost Walk 
From eerie Main Street tours to pup-friendly ghost walks to hair-raising pub crawls, there are tons of adventures for Halloween fans to experience in Old Ellicott City. Among them are the Mt. Misery Ghost Tour, which explores the northern part of town, and chances to see spirits roaming through the halls of Savage Mill. Mt. Misery tours: Fridays at 8:30 p.m.; Main Street tours: Saturdays at 8:30 p.m.; Haunted Savage Mill tours: Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. $15-20.

Year-Round: The Original Fells Point Ghostwalk
Fells Point is full of so-called haunted landmarks, from The Horse You Came In On Saloon—where legendary author Edgar Allan Poe is rumored to have ordered his last drink—to the notorious Admiral Fell Inn. A favorite since 2001, this tour unearths the neighborhood’s enduring paranormal presences, supposedly hanging around from when Baltimore was but a scrappy seaport city. Tour departs from Broadway Square near Max’s Taphouse 733 S. Broadway. $20.

Year-Round: Haunted Annapolis
For more than 20 years, this 90-minute ghost crawl through the city’s waterfront district—created by Maryland historian and Baltimore Sun contributor Mike Carter—has been giving locals goosebumps. Depart from the historic Maryland Inn hotel (located at the top of Main Street) to encounter lingering spirits. The Maryland Inn. 16 Church Circle, Annapolis. $15-25.

Year-Round: Maryland Heritage Tours
For close to 30 years, the state’s oldest operating ghost tour has delighted locals with the dark history of Frederick—thought by many to be one of Maryland’s most haunted cities. Stops along the way include a “spiritual playground,” for the ghosts of youngsters, as well as the home of Barbara Fritchie, a Civil War patriot whose ghost stands guard to keep away the spirits of confederate soldiers. Locations and times vary. $12-17.

Perhaps no fall pastime is more popular than paying a visit to a local pumpkin patch. Once the ‘ber months hit, we hit up our friends, cross-reference our calendars, and pick a day to trek out to a family-friendly farm to celebrate the season.

Luckily, in Baltimore we’re only a quick, scenic drive away from a number of pumpkin-picking destinations that go all out with harvest treats and activities—from apple cider and spice cakes to hayrides and petting zoos.

Below, browse our master list of area farms to find perfectly plump gourds, whether you want to bake pies, carve spooky jack-o-lanterns, or simply step up your porch decor this season.  

Weekends in October: Baugher’s Orchards and Farms
1015 Baugher Rd. Carroll County/Westminster
Hours: Weekends from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
How Far From Baltimore City? About 32 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Pick-your-own pumpkins with a hayride to the patch, plus enjoy play zones, scarecrows, a petting zoo, and more. As always, sweets—including Baugher’s famous apple cider donuts—are a must.

Oct. 1-31: Brookfield Pumpkins
8302 Ramsburg Road. Frederick/Thurmont
Hours: Mon.-Thurs.: 3-6 p.m.; Friday- Sunday: 10 a.m.-6:00 p.m.; Wagons to the pumpkin patch run hourly from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m.
How Far From Baltimore City? About 44 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Pick your own pumpkins, gourds, and squash (priced from $1-40, based on size.)

Weekends in October: Buppert’s/Doran’s Chance Farm
6914 Ridge Road, Marriotsville
Hours: Mon.-Fri.: 9:30 a.m.-6 p.m.; Weekends from 9:30 a.m.-5 p.m.
How Far From Baltimore City? About 18 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Hitch a hayride to the “U-Pick Patch,” select your perfect pumpkin, and enjoy unlimited rounds of family corn maze fun.

Sept. 19-Nov. 1: Butler’s Orchard
22222 Davis Mill Road. Germantown.
Hours: Wed.–Fri.: 1 p.m.– 6 p.m. (Last entry 4:30 p.m.)
Sat-Sun and Columbus Day: 9 a.m.-6 p.m. (Last entry 4:30 p.m.)
How Far From Baltimore City? About 33 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Enjoy pick-your-own pumpkins (priced at 79 cents per pound,) hilltop jump pads, pedal tractors, corn hole games, and straw maze mischief. Also available: pony rides, face paint, giant slides, and pumpkin cannons.

Weekends Sept. 19-Nov. 1: Chapel Hills Farm and Nursery
4356 Chapel Road. Perry Hall.
Hours: Sat: 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.; Sun: 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.
How Far From Baltimore City? About 12 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Come for the pumpkins. Stay for the pony rides, kettle corn, fresh-baked goods, and frozen treats.

Sept. 18-Nov. 8: Clark’s Elioak Farm
10500 Clarksville Pike. Ellicott City.
Hours: Tues.-Fri.: 10 a.m.-5 p.m.; Weekends: 10 a.m.-5:30 p.m. 
How Far From Baltimore City? About 15 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Kiddos get a hayride to the pumpkin patch and one cute “kid-sized” pumpkin of their choice. They can also take a pony ride, climb aboard the cow train, and visit furry friends at the beloved petting zoo.

Sept. 4-Nov. 1: Gaver Farm
5501 Detrick Road. Mount Airy
Hours: 10 a.m.-6 p.m. daily
How Far From Baltimore City? About 34 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Gaver Farm visitors can pick their own sunflowers, apples, and pumpkins. Also worth mentioning are mini mazes, jumping pillows, pedal karts, animals, and farm fresh grub.

Weekends through October: Knightongale Farm
3924 Solomons Island Road. Anne Arundel County/Harwood.
Hours: Check social media for weekend events and hours throughout the season.
How Far From Baltimore City? About 27 miles.
Harvest Highlights: In addition to pumpkins, be sure to take advantage of a moon bounce, pedal tractors, farm games, cow-milking, and petting zoo fun. And check out the giant spider. 

Sept. 19-Oct. 26: Mary’s Land Farm
4979 Sheppard Lane, Ellicott City.
Hours: Mon.-Sat.: 10 a.m.-4 p.m.; Sun: 11 a.m.-4 p.m.
How Far From Baltimore City? About 26 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Look out for animal encounters, hop on a wagon or train ride, and fly down the mega tandem slide. Weekends also feature food truck fare and live music.

Sept. 12-Nov. 8: Montpelier Farms
1720 Crain Highway North. Upper Marlboro.
Hours: Fridays: 5 p.m.-10 p.m. (last admission 9 p.m.); Saturdays: 10 a.m.-10 p.m. (last admission 9 p.m.); Sundays: 10 a.m.-7 p.m. (last admission 6 p.m.)
How Far From Baltimore City? About 30 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Traverse a pick-your-own pumpkin patch (selections five pounds and under priced $3; others 60 cents per pound) or purchase a Fall Festival ticket to enjoy hill slides, pumpkin bowling, barnyard basketball, and more.

Sept. 26-Nov. 1: Summers Farm
7503 Hollow Road. Frederick/Middletown.
Hours: Times vary by day and month. See details, here. 
How Far From Baltimore City? About 47 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Catch a wagon to the pick-your-own patch. Plus, get the kiddos riled up with everything from farmer mini golf and tug of war to an obstacle course and giant tunnel slides.

To Oct. 30: Valley View Farms
11035 York Rd. Cockeysville.
Hours: 8 a.m.-7p.m.
How Far From Baltimore City? About 14 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Marvel at the storefront’s Halloween Village display, pick pumpkins of all sizes, and guess how many seeds are in the biggest one. As always, WBAL’s Tom Tasselmyer makes the final count. Winners take home gift card prizes.

Sept. 14-Nov. 8: Weber’s Cider Mill Farm
2526 Proctor Lane. Parkville.
Hours: 10 a.m.-6 p.m. daily (10 a.m.-5 p.m. in November). Last entry at 4 p.m.
How Far From Baltimore City? About 9 miles.
Harvest Highlights: Pick pumpkins, sip on cider, and partake in a host of wholesome barnyard fun. (Think: play structures, face painting, mini mazes, gem mining, hillside slides, tire climbing and more.)

Additional reporting by Grace Hebron and Isabella Passalacqua

Among the countless reasons why we love living in Baltimore is its proximity to the Maryland Renaissance Festival (running weekends through Oct. 25), just about 25 miles south in Crownsville—which is continuously lauded as one of the best in the United States. When the summer winds down, hundreds of thousands of visitors stitch up their corsets, dust off their flower crowns, and make their way to Revel Grove—the 27-acre village of King Henry VIII and his royal company.

Stepping through the front gates sends attendees on a fully immersive trip back to the 16th century, with period-specific shops, artisans, performers (everything from song and dance to juggling and comedy), and sustenance (including the famous turkey legs, eats on a stick, and steins of mead) around every corner.

And fair-goers from near and far seem to be craving that kind of rare escape. As the festival celebrates its 50th anniversary, it’s more popular than ever—with tickets selling out as fast as the horses that rush around the jousting arena, which prompted a wait-list policy for the first time this year.  

Contributing photographer and Maryland Renaissance Festival regular Lauren Castellana—pictured below, donning a hand-made jester costume that she worked on all year in anticipation of the fest—strolled around the village to capture the fun, food, performance, and pure joy of opening weekend.

When longtime Hamilton residents Jason Daniloski and Nicole Evanshaw—the husband-and-wife owners behind Silver Queen Cafe, which opened on Harford Road in 2015—heard that their neighbor Emma’s Tea Spot was relocating down the street, they couldn’t bear the thought of another area storefront going dark. 

“It kept me up a little bit at night,” Evanshaw says of her reaction to the news in May. “In the morning, it hit me, this is our chance. This is the perfect spot for what we want to do.”

Fast forward to this month, the owners have officially transformed the former tea shop at 5500 Harford Road into the Market at Hamilton Fine Foods & Delicatessen—their dream specialty goods store.

“It’s not a grocery store [like nearby Harvest Fare or Hamilton Grocery Store], you can’t buy butter, milk, raw meat, or cereal,” Evanshaw clarifies, “but you can buy a nice pasta sauce from New Jersey.”

At a ribbon-cutting ceremony last week, neighbors gathered to browse the space, which was renovated in part thanks to community donations. It now features local artwork; seating for 45 (including tables that can be reserved for book clubs and community groups); and shelves and display cases stocked with everything from scratch-made sauces and loaves of bread to tubs of Phil’s Dills pickles and Taharka Bros. ice cream.

In particular, the shop is an opportunity for Evanshaw to show off her love of cheese. She has partnered with local wholesaler Simeon Fromberg of The Great Cheese to curate a lineup of 15 varieties, including a spicy yellow Lucifer Blue bleu cheese and a honey gouda, with more to come.

Another highlight is an entire wall of tinned fish (hello, Fishwife) nestled alongside jams and spreads, crackers, and bags of marcona almonds to complement the cheese. The tins serve as a springboard for one of the shop’s first recurring community events, Tinned Fish Tuesdays, which invites shoppers to sit in on a cooking demo using one of the featured varieties, and try it for themselves, on the fourth Tuesday of each month. 

Aside from offering options for a picnic spread or charcuterie board, the Market also has its own delicatessen, serving made-to-order sandwiches like a muffuletta, Caprese, Reuben panini, and and Italian sub called “the Guido,” which is a nod to Jason’s grandparents. The bread, including fresh focaccia, is baked by Bluebird Bakery’s Kevin Scheuing. Patrons can also pick up sides of pasta or bean salads and citrus-marinated olives.

Overall, the Market is the couple’s way of doubling down in their investment in the neighborhood they love so much. They’re even working with Cecil County’s Flying Plow Farm to make Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) produce pickups accessible every Wednesday. 

“We’ve seen the neighborhood fluctuate, and we just want good things for it,” Evanshaw sums up.