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.”

The artist known as Reed Bmore has to do a bit of mental gymnastics each time he introduces himself to someone new. The Hampden-based creator is responsible for the bootleg wire sculptures hanging from various telephone wires across Baltimore, and, for obvious reasons, prefers to remain anonymous. A quick Google search—or Caller ID display—reveals his actual name, but we’ll honor his request and stick with Reed Bmore for now.

A Maryland College Institute of Art alum, Bmore has been hanging wire sculptures—animals, video game characters, and Pokémon, among others—for about five years. He acknowledges that what he does could be considered vandalism, but he also points out that city officials only seem to mind when his subject matter is controversial. Chief among them: the sculpture that depicted Healthy Holly hogtied and horizontal during then-mayor Catherine Pugh’s final days in office. It took him about three hours to create and was removed from the intersection near Fayette and Gay Streets only a few hours later. “Worth it,” he says.

His desire for anonymity goes back to his youth as a graffiti artist, but he also wants his art to speak for itself. “In my eyes, wire sculpture is a very small part of who I am,” he says. “[Maintaining anonymity] gives me some leeway to express different avenues within myself.”

Bmore began creating his wire sculptures 10 years ago, but it was when he began hanging them around town and sharing his art on Reddit that things really took off. In the beginning, he was cranking out work at a high volume, eager to make his mark on Baltimore. But now that he has established some notoriety, he’s been able to slow that pace and only produce art that’s meaningful to him.

Still, anonymity remains the key. He wants to separate the street artist Reed Bmore from his life in the real world. But that presents an interesting paradox: Bmore runs a sculpture-focused Instagram account where followers can contact him for personalized work. He’s also planning to showcase some of his smaller pieces during an exhibit in August at Creative Labs in Hampden.

So how does he balance promoting himself while also maintaining his anonymity? He’s still working on that. “I build my artwork on bullshit and doing whatever I feel,” he says. “I just want to have fun and perpetuate lightheartedness and start conversation.”

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.