One month after “Black Lives Matter” was painted along Linwood Avenue in Patterson Park, a new ground mural—and message—is being added to the ongoing conversation about Black lives in Baltimore.

On Friday, July 17, dozens of volunteers joined organizers with Baltimore Safe Haven, a nonprofit dedicated to providing a higher quality of life for transgender people, to transform the intersection of North Charles Street between 21st and 23rd streets with colorful street art that reads: “Black Trans Lives Matter.”

“Our message is clear: We can’t breathe,” says Iya Dammons, founder and executive director of Baltimore Safe Haven. “Over the past ten years, there’s been at least one transgender woman killed on the streets of Baltimore every year. We have not been breathing, and [the mural] symbolizes that we are in a state of emergency and we need help.”

Designed by artist Jamie Grace Alexander, the mural comes on the heels of last month’s Black Trans Lives Matter march and rally—the city’s first large-scale protest for the Black, trans community which brought about 200 supporters downtown. (A photo from the momentous demonstration, taken by Baltimore’s own Devin Allen, made it onto the cover of Time magazine last month.) Both events represent local efforts to incorporate Black trans lives into the Black Lives Matter movement.

“We’re not erasing the Black Lives Matter movement, we’re including ourselves in it,” Dammons says. “We come peacefully. We want people to take from the mural that all Black trans women, and trans women period, are in solidarity with the movement.”

Before paint hit the pavement on Friday afternoon, local LGBTQ activists, city officials, and Baltimore Safe Haven representatives spoke to the crowd about the increased need for visibility and resources within the trans community.

When Jabari Lyles, director of LGBTQ affairs for the mayor’s office, addressed the group, he said that progress for Baltimore’s Black trans community doesn’t end with painting streets.

“We know that, although this mural is a really great visible symbol for the intention to do more [for the Black trans community], this is still not enough,” Lyles said. “We have to continue to hold this government accountable—we’re talking about housing, jobs, services, and education.”

Dammons and her team hope that the mural serves as a constant reminder of the movement to protect and provide for one of the city’s most vulnerable populations.

“[The mural] symbolizes that my life matters,” says Josiah Camore, facilities manager of Baltimore Safe Haven. “I’m looking forward to seeing everybody come together to support us and this movement.”

After the colorful addition to the Charles Village streetscape is finished and the volunteers have all gone home, Dammons will continue on with her life’s work of providing members of the city’s LGBTQ community, especially those in survival mode, with everything from safer sex kits to hand sanitizer and face masks. Dammons says it’s the same reason she stands at the forefront of the Black Trans Lives Matter movement—to give Black, trans people the support they need.

“Oftentimes, people say, ‘Black lives matter,’ but they don’t always include the lives and voices of Black trans people,” Dammons says. “We’re taking back our authority.”

It’s hard to miss the large, bright, swirling mural at Union Collective when traveling southbound on the JFX. The vibrant colors on the wall pop, almost looking animated. That was the idea that the Baltimore-based art duo Jessie Unterhalter and Katey Truhn had in mind when they were commissioned to create what is now the ID tag of the newest space in Hampden.

Although they are both originally from New York, the MICA graduates have made Baltimore their home. They have become known for transforming public spaces into vibrant experiences both locally and internationally. Their most recent work, a multimedia mural at MICA’s newDolphin Design Center, was one that they were most excited to complete as it brought them back to the place where they met.

We caught up with the duo to find out what inspires their work, new projects, and what it’s like to work as a team.

How did you two get to this point after meeting at MICA nearly 20 years ago?
Jessie Untherhalter: We were 18 when we met and we hit it off. We were best friends and started making work alongside each other at MICA. We were both pretty inspired by the city of Baltimore.

Katey Truhn: Both of us had other jobs, and we knew we really wanted to get back into art. Making public work seemed to make sense because we were always really inspired by the environment we were in. We really wanted to do something that involved other people and affected other people outside of the art world.

What was your first project together outside of school?
JU: I guess the first actual project, that we got funding for, was an open call through BOPA [Baltimore Office of Promotion and Arts]—it was a mural on Harford Road. By the time the open call came around, we had made the decision that we wanted to go for this career move and we scoured the internet for open calls and applied for every single one.

Visual art is traditionally very independent. How do you make it work together?
KT: It’s actually so great. Basically having someone to work with and bounce stuff off of and come up with new ideas is amazing. Just for logistics of painting huge walls like Union and MICA, doing that by yourself would be really hard—it’s already challenging with two people, like holy shit. It’s really nice. I think being an artist is a pretty solitary career in a way, so it’s really nice to have someone to do it with.

Has there ever been an instance where it seems like there are “too many cooks in the kitchen?”
JU: We’re collaborative every step of the way. Usually we are really hands on so we draw everything first and draw out the buildings to scale on a piece of paper. We usually have a bunch of different designs going for one space and we just pass the paper back and forth. We keep revising it and then we pick which one we like and use Photoshop to color it in.

When we’re designing, we always account for every window, every door and try to play with all the elements that are in the space because that kind of informs our design. It’s a challenge every time that makes it a little more exciting.

How much flexibility do you have in coming up with the designs?
JU: It depends on who’s commissioning it. With Union, they really wanted us to use our style to tell the beer story. But with MICA, they were really open to whatever we designed.

KT: I think that if you’re working with a company that is selling a brand or product, you have to work within their product lines. But if you’re just making art for art’s sake, we get to do whatever we want.

How long, start to finish, did it take for you to complete the mural at Union Collective?
JU: It was like three weeks for the first part and then two weeks for the second part.

KT: Yea, that was a really big wall [laughs]. The bricks were super old and I guess had never been painted before—they absorbed so much paint. It was very hard to work on that surface, which was really surprising to us, but we used so much paint. We had a couple of assistants here and there, but for the most part, it was just the two of us. It was really crazy, our bodies were rock hard after [laughs].

What was it like to work on the mural at your alma mater?
JU: We actually just finished yesterday, woo hoo! We thought it would be fun doing a project at MICA since we went there, reflecting on that time it was really experimental for our growth as artist.

It was a great opportunity to explore this new incorporation of materials that we’ve been wanting to do. It’s cool because you can see it from so far down the block and it’s already really high in the air so it’s something that people can experience from far away. I think we wanted to make it really loud in a way—the recycled cans catch the light and they reflect so it’s really bright and at some points in the day it looks like lights on the wall. And the recycled colored bags that we used wave and you can see that from a distance so it becomes this sort of live action. We just wanted to try something wacky and new and figured Baltimore would appreciate that.

Do you feel like the bright, bold murals is your signature style?
JU: I didn’t think the MICA mural was that similar to the Union one, but so many people have come up to us asking if we did the Union one also. So I guess so, our signature style is in there somewhere.

KT: You want these murals to be big celebratory statements that you want people to enjoy, so it just makes the most sense for us because that’s what we are drawn to. Bright colors, excitement, and high contrast—it really draws people in.

Of all the places in the country you have done murals, why did you decide to stay in Baltimore?
KT: We both really like it here and I think for now this feels like home—we have roots here.

JU: It’s also been a really great community that has fostered our art-making. It’s one of those places where you can experiment and it’s totally accepted. I feel like before we started working together, we were involved in so many community projects—whether it was big theater projects or painting for friends—there was a lot of collaboration in the city and that makes you think you can do and try anything and you’ve got the support behind you. That is empowering as an artist and it makes you think you can go for it with no judgment.

Editor’s Note: This story was updated to reflect the results of the November 13 Commission for Historical and Architectural Preservation hearing.

Jesse Salazar and Tom Williams approached acclaimed street artist Gaia about a year ago to ask if he would be interested in painting the side of their Mount Vernon rowhome. But the couple couldn’t have planned a better week to finally get their three-story portrait of Baltimore-bred drag icon Divine.

An unplanned break freed up Gaia’s schedule this month, and he called Salazar and Williams to see if they wanted to pull the trigger on the ambitious private commission before he headed off to the Netherlands on October 24. They did.

The stars seemed to have aligned. The project began October 15 and, four days later, the day Divine (born Harris Glenn Milstead) would have been 73 years old, Gaia was painting. Just two miles straight north, a John Waters retrospective graces one of the Baltimore Museum of Art‘s special exhibition galleries.

“The timing is perfect and it’s strange,” Gaia says. “It’s sort of surreal that there isn’t already a monument to her in the city.”

The image chosen for the mural is from the cover of Divine’s 1984 single, “I’m So Beautiful,” and photographer Greg Gorman’s graphic style fit right in with Gaia’s aesthetic. But Salazar says the message is for those both familiar and unfamiliar with that particular track.

“We asked Gaia to create this mural as a tribute to Divine and the city’s queer history,” he says. “Our feeling was that, at a time when LGBT rights are being threatened, we hoped that beauty would inspire others to know that they, too, are beautiful, and the message that she’s sending to Baltimore I think is timely and important. For those who know Divine, it’s a celebration of her strength. And for those who don’t know her, I loved the image of this bold woman saying ‘I am beautiful.'”

The piece feels even more timely in the wake of this week’s news that the Trump administration is considering defining gender in a way that would threaten the rights of transgender and gender nonconforming people across the country.

As members of the LGBTQ community and its allies proclaim “we will not be erased,” this image has emerged in one of Baltimore’s historic “gayborhoods” to celebrate queer history, identity, and acceptance.

While Salazar says support for the mural in the neighborhood has been strong, the work has run into some trouble with the city. During the final day of painting, Gaia was approached by a city inspector who said there had been complaints about the mural. The piece was never authorized by the Commission for Historical and Architectural Preservation, which head of CHAP Eric Holcomb says must approve all exterior changes in local historic districts. Salazar is now working with the city to submit an application to keep the mural in place.

“There’s probably no other person you could paint and have it be this important, that I can think of, for that location,” Gaia says. “Whether or not the city wants to fight a monument that should exist is like, just don’t. The kind of compliments I’ve been getting, you can tell it’s really touching people.”

As it stands, the mural on East Preston Street is the only such work dedicated to Divine in the city. (Though there are constant unofficial tributes to Milstead at his gravesite in Towson.) Previous public efforts to create a monument made it through the bureaucratic hurdles only to be derailed by a lack of funding. As news of the mural has spread, support has poured in from Divine’s fans and public art supporters from Baltimore and beyond.

The image was shared multiple times by the official Divine Instagram account, and John Waters visited to pose with the mural Tuesday afternoon. Noah Brodie, CEO of Divine’s estate, sent a letter to CHAP in support of the new piece. In it he says, “It’s an inspiring message for counter-culture types, the LGBTQ community, and those affirming body positive representation. In many ways, she represents the strength of Baltimore’s character, and serves as a reminder of the city’s perseverance and authenticity. Divine is brassy, bold, and beautiful; just like Baltimore.”

The statement was echoed by Christian Larsen, associate curator of modern and contemporary art at The Met in his own letter of support. “The message your city sends of diversity, difference, acceptance and even celebration of one of your most daring and bold personalities is exactly what these dark times call for,” he wrote. “We are every day more at risk of falling prey to fear, prejudice, and discrimination against any and all communities that don’t conform to an increasingly narrow definition of normal. Baltimore is anything but normal. It dares to be different. Out of respect for all your citizens, please keep it that way.”

On November 13, CHAP met for its monthly hearing. Last on the agenda was a request from Salazar for retroactive approval of the “I’m So Beautiful” mural. In addition to the multiple letters of support and 4,200-plus Change.org petition signatures Salazar provided as evidence for why the mural should stay, Holcomb had requested two questions be answered in Salazar’s testimony: First, whether the mural could cause damage to the existing masonry, and second, whether the mural would detract from the historic Mt. Vernon streetscape.

Testimony from Sherwin-Williams scientists was read, and community members came out both in support of and in opposition to the mural. A statement from John Waters was presented by an assistant. It read, in part: “I’m kind of mystified as to the controversy and hope today’s hearing is merely a technicality…I had read in the press that the neighborhood association is concerned that this well-intentioned mural would overwhelm the historic character of the neighborhood. It seems to me that the negative national news about the crime rate in Baltimore is much more apt to overwhelm our streets than Divine, and I know it’s a crazy world out there, but like it or not, Divine is historical now, and I think most of Mount Vernon is proud of Divine’s history here. What better development in neighborhood crime watch than Divine? Looking down beautifully over the passers by on Preston Street and keeping them safe.”

The committee found itself in a catch-22 of sorts in deciding whether the mural should stay or go. On one hand it was in violation of a rule stating that historic unpainted masonry should not be painted over. On the other, a second rule states that well-adhered paint should not be removed from historic walls to avoid the risk of damage to the structure. While the mural probably would not have been approved had it been brought in front of CHAP to begin with (a situation Salazar acknowledged and apologized for in his testimony), its existence on the wall means that CHAP would now have to break another rule to take it down.

While that may seem like a major loophole, city residents shouldn’t get any bright ideas about painting their own tributes on their historic homes. Salazar testified that he did not realize that works of art were in the same category as painting the exterior of a home only to change its color, and during the course of deliberation, Commissioner Larry Gibson presented the plan that would end the nearly hour-long discussion of what to do about Divine’s vivid visage.

“I think we should keep the mural, but for none of the reasons that I’ve heard up until now,” said Gibson. “I think the fundamental reason is, and this is a one-time thing, I accept the owner’s statement that they did not know—that somehow our rules with respect for murals are ambiguous or uncertain. There’s some distinction between just painting and changing color and an artistic work of art. But going forward, there should no longer be that ambiguity.”

Those looking to put up enormous works of art in their neighborhoods won’t get as lucky as Salazar and Williams have, it seems. “The press is here. Nobody in the future can tell us they didn’t know,” Gibson said, eliciting laughs from both the commission and those gathered to testify. “This is a one off.”

After several testimonies, much deliberation, and a few moments of confusion during the vote, the retroactive approval of the “I’m So Beautiful” mural on East Preston Street was unanimously passed, to applause and a couple of whoops from the crowd.

For the next couple of decades, at least until the paint begins to fade (“a topic for future commissions,” quipped CHAP chair Thomas Liebel), Divine’s arched eyebrows will continue to peek out from the alleyway overlooking a pair of dumpsters. It would be an odd location for nearly anyone else, but for the Queen of Filth, it feels just right.

From Graffiti Alley in Station North to Billie Holliday in Fells Point, Baltimore has a long and impressive history of embracing street art. Later this fall, the north Baltimore neighborhood Govans will get a new piece of work, though unlike most street art, this mural will be indoors, inside Full Tilt Brewing’s new taproom in the Accelerator Space.

The mural’s creators, Brad Turner and Derrick Noel, are a pair of talented Wilmington, Delaware-based artists. Full Tilt co-owner Nick Fertig met Turner at a beer festival in Perryville, immediately fell in love with his work, and knew his style would be a good fit for the taproom.

Though Turner often works alone, he realized quickly that this project would be a good opportunity to collaborate with his friend. Turner’s style meshes elements of street art with his fine arts background; Noel’s works are typically freehand, graffiti-style creations.

“Nick wanted something memorable with a huge wow factor,” Turner says. “The idea was that Hops the Cat—their main mascot—would reclaim the wall over and over again. Hops is a cartoon-style mascot: a cat that shoots green beams of hops out of its eyes.”

The wall, lacquered with both spray paint and regular house paint, is full of bright colors and chaotic imagery. The artists’ vision involved creating something that could be found “out in the wild,” Turner says. It would be a layered creation of paint, lettering, and texture that looks organic and authentic, not like a contrived work of art.

To achieve this, the pair started with elements of the Full Tilt brand, including a huge rendition of Hops the Cat that stretches the height of the wall. The Full Tilt imagery is augmented with layers of paint and paper: graffiti-style lettering, the Ravens’ and Orioles’ logos and bits of wallpaper that are a nod to the layers of posters often found on the sides of urban buildings.

“The cool part about this wall is that it incorporates all the disciplines of urban art,” says Turner. Urban art typically encompasses four specific techniques: stenciling, a character, wheatpaste postering, and piecing, or the creation of a graffiti “masterpiece” of letters.

Turner’s contribution focuses on the posters and stenciling, which he describes as “process-oriented” and connected to his fine art roots. Noel picked up the graffiti and character creation, lending his technical expertise and loose style to the project.

“Brad works more on the design and layout,” says Noel. “My work is more illustrative and freehand. So, we’re using two entirely different approaches coming together and it’s so cool.”

The artists’ process is one that evolves. Before putting anything on the walls, they developed sketches of what the final product might become and worked with the Full Tilt team to refine those concepts. Even after work on the wall began, the concept continued to change. “The sketches aren’t exactly what the wall’s going to look like,” says Noel.

Like the sketches, though, the final product will be colorful and engaging, signaling that the brewery is a welcoming place to hang out. The Full Tilt owners confirm that it will be open by the end of 2018.

“We want to be part of the neighborhood and do cool local stuff and get to know our neighbors,” says Full Tilt co-owner Nick Fertig. The mural is just one part of the design geared towards fun: the space also includes games like shuffleboard, Skee-Ball and Golden Tee, and garage-style doors across the front of the brewery that, in good weather, will open to the sidewalk.

Turner and Noel have both worked on brewery murals in Delaware and here in Baltimore, Full Tilt isn’t the only brewery embracing the power of an artsy wall. Black Flag Brewing’s sudsy Star Wars mural gives fans extra reason to visit the Columbia taproom and the bright colors of Union Collective’s geometric outdoor mural have already starred in many an Instagram story.

“I wanted a big mural even before we found the building,” says Union co-owner Jon Zerivitz. “I wanted our brewery and beer garden to feature a large scale piece of local art for all to enjoy.”

At Full Tilt, the goals of the artists—and owners—are similar. “We went about it with a public art sensibility,” says Turner. “It’s obtainable for everybody.”

The latest in a series of murals by Baltimore-based street artist and MICA grad Gaia is now on view in Remington behind W.C. Harlan.

Sponsored by Greater Remington Improvement Association (GRIA) and Baltimore Office of Promotion and the Arts (BOPA), the piece depicts a pair of immigrants arriving at Ellis Island around the turn of the last century posed in the style of a Madonna and child.

In reference to the subject matter, Gaia wrote on Instagram that, “My great grandfather came to this country and started a garbage business. One hundred years and four generations later, it is important to remember that migration is a human right.”

Rendered in shades of blue and based on a period photograph by Lewis Hines, the one-story image is placed over a background of flowers arranged by local florist Steelcut Flower Co.

Gaia requested permission to use an arrangement featured on Steelcut’s Instagram, and owner Mary Ellen LaFreniere was happy to contribute her work to the project.

“We all have a different lens of perception, and I’m honored that Gaia took my image, transposed it with another through his own lens, and created something new that can assist people in emoting, thinking, feeling . . . whatever they take away from the mural,” LaFreniere says.

While the chosen arrangement was created for a bride, not as part of the mural project, LaFreniere says the blossoms featured lend themselves to the message.

“The white bloom on the bottom left is a tuberose, the one on the top left is a Mexican sunflower, both flowers that have origins in Mexico, both uniquely beautiful,” she says. “Also, many of the flowers shown in this bouquet were grown by Hillen Homestead, a Baltimore City farmer who grows on abandoned lots, and her farms are just a few minutes away from the site of the mural. I think you all can probably infer your own metaphors about Mexican flower varieties and flowers grown on abandoned lots and how that overlaps with Hines’ image.”

The Hines-inspired mural is the third and final wall to be painted by Gaia as part of his Transformative Art Prize collaboration with GRIA and BOPA. His other works from the project can be seen at Wyman Park Drive and Remington Avenue and at 26th Street and Hampden Avenue.

On a blistering cold New Year’s Eve, the body heat is welcome inside the Creative Alliance. Dancers of all ages sway to the sultry, jazzy sounds of the Bumper Jacksons on stage with local beat-boxer Shodekeh, who layers the music with percussive hums and taps. As the show winds down, patrons peruse the diverse artwork of Amy Sherald in the lobby gallery before heading to an after-party just down the street at Snake Hill, a sausage and beer bar, where a DJ spins until closing time. In other words, 2017 in Highlandtown kicked off at one of the neighborhood’s anchor institutions and ended at a bar that’s less than two years old.  

Bookended by the old and the new, the trailblazer and the trendy, the evening reflects a neighborhood that has long been undergoing a revitalization and is now seeing those changes come to fruition. Thanks to strong community partnerships, and a heavy emphasis on diversity and the arts, Highlandtown is experiencing a renaissance—a case study in how to revitalize a neighborhood while keeping its character.

“Highlandtown would be a great example of how all of Baltimore can revive,” says shop owner Juan Carlos Nuñez. “We’re firing on all cylinders with the businesses, community, houses, art galleries. But this kind of thing doesn’t happen overnight.”

The impetus for Highlandtown’s growth can be traced back decades ago. As so many things do in this blue-collar neighborhood, it stems from U.S. Sen. Barbara Mikulski, a founding member of SECO—or the Southeast Community Organization.

Along with preventing a highway from forming in the middle of Fells Point, SECO is responsible for starting the Southeast Community Development Corporation (CDC), which has had its hand in many Highlandtown success stories since its inception in 1975.

“Community development organizations were created to spur investment in disinvested areas, encourage affordable housing, and try to bring everyone together despite their differences,” says Southeast CDC director Chris Ryer.

During the late ’90s and early 2000s, local organizers in Baltimore took a cue from thriving 36th Street in Hampden and started their own Main Streets programs to encourage new businesses along busy thoroughfares. At the same time, an organization called Healthy Neighborhoods was being developed for undervalued areas of potential in the city.

This happy confluence of groups all began swirling around Southeast Baltimore and, in particular, Hollandtown, as it’s pronounced by local residents. A few years later, an arts collective called the Creative Alliance decided to move from its home in Fells Point to the old Patterson Theater. 

“Even putting the shovel in the ground started a ripple effect of something positive in the neighborhood,” says Creative Alliance co-founder Margaret Footner. “Investors took notice and the rehab kicked in pretty quickly.” 

But as is the case in so many neighborhoods around the country, initial investment does not always lead to long-term growth. So what makes Highlandtown different?

“Walking to work here every day reminded me of Sesame Street.”

“I remember when I first moved here from Queens,” says Southeast CDC’s neighborhood programs director Kari Snyder. “Highlandtown had that same flair. I heard languages from all over the world, people were so friendly and community-oriented. It sounds silly, but walking to work here every day reminded me of Sesame Street.” 

While many people in Baltimore were setting up shop in more popular neighborhoods such as Canton and Fells Point, a subtle groundswell was taking place in Highlandtown.

“When I opened up, all the Latino businesses were basically on Broadway,” says Carlos Cruz, who’s owned sports bar Carlos O’Charlie’s since 2006. “But I saw a little bit of construction here and there and had a great idea that this would be the next big area. I immediately felt welcome in Highlandtown.”

Businesses like Cruz’s remain the backbone of the Eastern Avenue corridor. Maintaining them during the recession and 2015 Uprising was no easy feat and owners leveraged strong partnerships with Highlandtown Main Street and the Baltimore Community Foundation for assistance.

Even a seemingly simple program—like a facade grant that provides a $1-for-$1 match to improve windows, doors, signage, and other exterior work for small businesses—goes a long way.  

“I’ve had many conversations about how perception is so important,” says Highlandtown Main Street manager Amanda Smit-Peters. “We work really hard to make things look nice. But we’re also teaching business owners how to apply for these grants. We never just come in and do it for them because that’s not sustainable.”

Another thing that separates Highlandtown’s community from the pack is that there are many residents “doubling down” and buying places to both live and work, like the owners of Highlandtown Gallery, RoofTop Hot, Y:ART Gallery, Snake Hill, and Michael Owen Art. 

Of course, housing itself also had to recover from the recession. But that eventually started to bounce back, too. 

“Over the last five or six years, investors came back and—house by house, block by block—you started to see that change,” says Mark Parker, pastor of Breath of God Lutheran Church and board member of the Highlandtown Community Association. 

Now, according to Live Baltimore, Highlandtown is the ninth top-selling neighborhood in the city with 30 percent growth in the value of home sales just this past year. Similarly, the building vacancy rate has decreased from 30 to 9 percent in the last 10 years.

“The first half of the decade was more under the radar with housing and businesses. That’s when you saw the opening of mom-and-pop shops like grocery stores, five-and-dimes, and barber shops,” Ryer says. “When you think about it, the neighborhood hadn’t really turned over in 100 years. It was due.”

A vibrant mural on the corner of Bank Street and Highland Avenue—a stone’s throw from Cinco de Mayo grocery store, Little Morocco Cafe, and Hoehn’s Bakery—tells Highlandtown’s history as a melting pot in a nutshell.

On the left, artist Joel Bergner used hues of amber and gold to depict European immigrants, who populated Southeast Baltimore from the 1800s until the mid-20th century. The right side, adding cooler tones of blues and greens, celebrates the community as it looks today—diverse and full of Latino immigrants.

“This has always been a neighborhood of immigrants,” Smit-Peters says. “You don’t get your Matthew’s, Hoehn’s, and DiPasquale’s around for 100 years without remembering where we started and keeping that going.”

As the mural suggests, the latest census data found that 34 percent of Highlandtown residents are Hispanic, many hailing from Mexico, El Salvador, and Puerto Rico. More recently, there has been an influx of Middle Eastern and African immigrants and refugees. 

“Jambalaya is the best way I can describe it,” says Lynne Distance, branch manager of the Southeast Anchor Library, who has worked at every branch in the Enoch Pratt Free Library system. “You’ve got a mixture of everything here. When I look to hire people, I make sure they can speak at least one or two languages.”

The immigrant culture permeates nearly every aspect of the neighborhood, from the Hispanic-owned businesses to the diverse makeup of community leadership.

“Southeast Baltimore wouldn’t be growing if not for the immigrant community,” Snyder says. “It’s incredibly important that they stay here and we do a lot of things to encourage them to stay.”

Neighborhood Housing Services of Baltimore partners with the Southeast CDC to provide home-loan assistance to lower income families. Also, programs through United Way help counsel people at risk of eviction. 

The library turned a former cafe into a “creation station” where local families can take (or teach) classes in cooking, sewing, and robotics. The branch also provides video job interviews for people who don’t have transportation.

In addition, residents say, the community associations make it a priority to represent the demographics of the neighborhood so that no one feels left out of the conversation.

“Our goal is that the board of directors consists of longtime residents, immigrants, and people with different economic backgrounds,” Parker says. “Our association probably has 100 active members, and we need to make sure those 100 are an accurate reflection.”

While most residents and business owners admit that Highlandtown isn’t perfect, there is an overwhelming sense of pride in its diversity.

“The neighborhood hadn’t really turned over in 100 years.
It was due.”

“If you look at the history of Baltimore, there have always been pockets of segregation,” says Nuñez, who owns Tops in Cellulars on Highland Avenue. “But we’ve got every race and every culture here and we somehow make it work.”

One way they are making it work is through the arts, like Creative Alliance’s former SalsaPolkaLooza event that blended the old and new immigrant populations. Or Artesanas Mexicanas, a program started by Maria Aldana, in which Mexican women teach traditional arts, like piñata- and altar-making, to the community.

“This is a way to show and transmit my tradition and make me feel at home,” says master artist Yesenia Mejia Knight. “I am able to show my son how his mom was raised in Mexico. I have made friendships and feel like I have a new family here.”

It’s these kinds of connections that set Highlandtown apart, Footner says: “It’s not just build it and they will come. We have made it our mission to develop relationships with very different kinds of people in the community. And we’ve drawn in outside energy from people all over the state to come and visit Highlandtown.”

An emphasis on the arts can be seen in plenty of places outside the Patterson’s walls, too. After all, the neighborhood is an official Maryland Arts & Entertainment District and its blocks are lined with local galleries, colorful murals, and creative installations. 

“We invest a lot of money into what we call place-making projects,” Snyder says. “This has been a way to re-envision how we use our public spaces and create a new identity.”

This reinvention can also be seen in a crop of businesses that have opened in the last two years. There’s the Italian corner bar Gnocco, massive brewery Monument City, whiskey distillery Old Line Spirits, and sausage bar Snake Hill, just to name a few.

“We keep joking we’ll call it the Highlandtown circuit,” says Snake Hill co-owner Randy Coffren, who has been a local resident for 10 years. “For me, this is a proud neighborhood instead of a transient one. People want to stick around because Highlandtown has flavor—it feels like a city. I don’t want to live in a place where all my neighbors look the same and drive the same BMW.”

Adjacent to Snake Hill is the 500-pound gorilla in the neighborhood, Highland Haus, a six-story building with 65 market-rate apartments built by commercial developer Peter Garver and set to open this fall in the old Haussner’s restaurant space. 

“Now what you’re seeing take shape are anchor buildings that are bigger and harder to redevelop,” says Ryer. “There’s really been a process to get them in competent hands.”

The fact that the Haussner’s property sat vacant for more than 10 years is less a testament to a lack of interest and more a sign of the careful consideration Highlandtown took to make sure that the right developer came, one that would respect the soul of the culturally rich neighborhood.

“None of us want this to be a transition to something inauthentic or corporate,” Snyder says. “We want to make sure that this is forever a diverse, friendly, accessible place to live.”

This sentiment was on full display during a block party on a warm day in May. In classic fashion, the party was all about local groups coming together to transform a block. The Highlandtown Business Association wanted to clean up the alley, Healthy Harbor Initiative wanted to put up a mural and educate students about the environment, and Highlandtown Main Street was game for all of it. 

So they all threw a party on the 3500 block of Eastern Avenue to celebrate a new mural—depicting the Gulf of Mexico and the Chesapeake Bay.

With the vivid waterway as the backdrop, kids played on kayaks while parents drank margaritas and a mariachi band played in the background. 

“There’s a heart in Highlandtown,” Cruz says. “And Highlandtown is in my heart.” 

If you’ve ever been stuck in traffic on I-83, taken a stroll through Little Italy, or hit up a happy hour in Federal Hill, you’ve seen the work of muralist Marshall Adams, 31, a Baltimore native whose art can be found in more than 300 locations—and counting—across the region.

The smokestack at Union Craft Brewing visible from 83? That’s him. The painted scene at Pratt and High streets depicting Little Italy’s outdoor film series? Adams again. And the murals at popular watering holes like Blue Agave and Hightopps Backstage Grille? Yep, still him.

For Adams, whose clients range from Baltimore City to businesses and homeowners, creating large-scale murals is an unexpected but very welcome career. “I was studying photography in Salisbury and replied to an opportunity to paint a mural at a children’s bookstore. I was under-qualified, but they took a risk,” he explains. “It was a great success, and when they later relocated, they flew me out from California to paint their new location. I’ve been painting murals ever since.”

Adams’s latest project—at Ropewalk Tavern’s expansive Ocean City location—will be unveiled this month, and he’s also working toward a gallery show of studio works. But don’t worry: “I’ll always love creating murals,” he says.

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Online Exclusive! See more of Marshall Adams’ murals that are displayed around town.