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Photo by Ian Furlong

Photo by Eva BarsinÂ

2 | Spring 2017

SNAPSHOT: Spring 2017


e asked for photos of Annapolis that you feel defines this city as home. These pages include several of the photos that were submitted. We have also included a photo on the back cover. To read the captions that define these images and view additional photos that were not included here, please visit

Photo by Sara Doolittle

Photo by Micheal Rhian Driscoll

Photo by Skip Squires | 3

get to


410.544.5448 | 7 0 0 M i l l C r e e k R oa d A r n o l d , M a r y l a n d 2 1 0 1 2

CONTENTS 6 | Spring 2017

Volume 4



A Crazy Kind of Beautiful


Issue 1




Howlin' at the Moon


Framed by Strength


By Melanie McCarty

SNAP By Emmy Nicklin



Beneath the Surface By Brenda Wintrode




Deep Roots, New Beginings


The Ugly Pig: Fairest of Them all


Bookstores, Annapolis, 1980s


By Julia Gibb

SUP By Desiree Smith-Daughety



By Eric Gudas




Sabatino. Photo by Allison Zaucha


Embodied Awareness


Decolonizing the Arts with The Dove

By Leah Weiss

AGO Diamonds are a Bird's Best Friend By Zoë Nardo


By Leah Glenn



To Preserve & Protect By Melanie McCarty


Stage Whisperers By Leigh Glenn



The I.W.S.A.(Inner West Street Association) & the Annapolis Arts District Calendar

Editor’s Inkwell

Publisher’s Note

It’s been a crazy ride this year, and it’s barely spring. But here we are, stepping into the

season with creative vigor and a little bit of grace to wash it all down.

Last issue, we put out a call to all you

shutterbugs to send us pictures of what makes

Annapolis iconic to you. Some of you submitted places of historical relevance, objects of artistic importance, and even people and animals

enjoying life at your favorite milieus. Thank you for sharing some of these intimate snapshots

with us and giving us a peek into what makes Annapolis so special.

While we could not fit every photo we received on the inside front cover of this issue, we have

selected a variety that illuminates the heart and soul of our little city. Each photo came with

a short description explaining what makes it

emblematic of Naptown. To read the captions

and to see additional photos that did not appear in the print issue, visit

Happy spring, lovelies! | 7

These ar the times that try men’s souls... The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink

from the service of his country, but he that stands by it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. – Thomas Paine





410-280-1414 ON GALLERY ROW / 55 West Street Ann Munro Wood is represented by the Annapolis Collection Gallery on Gallery Row in historic Annapolis Maryland.

like no other gallery in town



Publisher & Creative Director Jimi Davies Editorial Director Andrea Stuart Copy Editor Leah Weiss Associate Editors Michele Callaghan Jenny Igoe MacDuff Perkins Contributing Editors Julia Gibb Leigh Glenn Eric Gudas Melanie McCarty Zoë Nardo Emmy Nicklin Theresa C. Sanchez Desiree Smith-Daughety Leah Weiss Brenda Wintrode

Art Director Cory Deere Contributing Photographers John Bildahl Dave Colburn Karen Davies Alison Harbaugh Mark Peria Amy Raab Allison Zaucha Advertising Jimi Davies Kim O’Brien Melissa Lauren

Mailing Address: Up.St.Art Annapolis P.O. Box 4162 Annapolis, MD 21403 410.212.4242 SUBMISSIONS: For article submissions, email proposal to Up.St.Art Annapolis Magazine is published quarterly. Address: P.O. Box 4162, Annapolis, MD 21403. Subscription rate: $40, payable in advance. Single copies $4.99. Back issues, if available, $15 (includes shipping and handling). POSTMASTER send address changes to Up.St.Art Annapolis, P.O. Box 4162, Annapolis, MD 21403. Entire contents © 2017 by Up.St.Art Annapolis Magazine™ unless otherwise noted on specific articles. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or part is strictly prohibited without Publisher permission.

10 | Spring 2017

Melanie McCarty

Leigh Glenn

Julia Gibb

Emmy Nicklin

Theresa C. Sanchez

ZoĂŤ Nardo

Eric Gudas

Desiree Smith-Daughety

Leah Weiss

Brenda Wintrode


Amy Raab

John Bildahl

Karen Davies

Alison Harbaugh

Mark Peria

Allison Zaucha

Dave Colburn | 11


12 | Spring 2017

A Crazy Kind of Beautiful by THERESA C. SANCHEZ photography by ALISON HARBAUGH


t is generally acknowledged that art is composed of six visual elements: line, shape, form, space, color, and texture. But Annapolis-based artist Ronald Markman would add a seventh component: tone, and specifically, one of whimsy. “Silly is very important,” says Markman. “There are two things I want to achieve with my work: silliness and making the pieces look really good. That’s what I do. I have to do it.” The 85-year-old painter has dedicated much of his life to the pursuit of creativity.

It all began in New York, in the Bronx, where Markman absorbed every aspect of his childhood environment. His parents exposed him to various forms of entertainment that would become source material for his artwork: from Jack Benny shows and Marx Brothers movies to Smokey Stover comics and Broadway performances, there was no shortage of stimuli. His early graphic interests guided him to train and later work briefly as a cartoonist. But after showing his portfolio to the late famed illustrator of The New Yorker, Saul Steinberg,

Markman quickly realized that he had much more to learn. The self-described “writer who draws” was the first of several figures who played a pivotal role in shaping the artist and man who Markman is today. Markman’s desire and drive to improve his craft led him to the Art Students League of New York. There, he learned the fundamentals of drawing from acclaimed caricaturist George Grosz, who is largely associated with the Dada and New Objectivity movements of the 1920s. In 1952, he was drafted to serve in the Army during the

LEFT: "News Stand" | 13

Korean War, where his talents were directed toward utilitarian tasks. “I painted signs. What else could [they] do with a painter? I was very lucky,” says Markman. Two years later, upon completing duty and earning the rank of sergeant, he enrolled at the Yale University School of Art on the GI Bill. He studied under the unconventional tutelage of Josef Albers, a visionary geometric abstractionist considered to be the father of color theory and best known for his signature series “Homage to the Square.” Markman earned his bachelor’s and master’s

14 | Spring 2017

degrees in fine arts, studying color, drawing, and painting over the course of just four years. “Markman recalled Albers insisting that his students find their own vision,” says Andrew Wang, an Indiana University Bloomington graduate student who curated the special installation “After Yale: Pupils of Josef Albers,” which ran from January through August 2016 at the institution’s Eskenazi Museum of Art. Markman was a professor of fine arts at the university from 1964 to 1994. “[He remembers] Albers being very poetic, with creative assignments

“Art is a demonstration of human life. Art is revelation instead of information.”

like creating collages out of leaves to analyze color interactions,” says Wang. Action was key to Albers’ instruction, and in 1940, he wrote, “Art is a demonstration of human life. Art is revelation instead of information.” He encouraged Markman to step out of his comfort zone to more fully develop his aesthetic instincts and methods. Once, Markman decided to emulate a classmate’s work after being frustrated by the lack of positive feedback in class. “The strategy worked,” he says. “I learned from this experience

that copying elements of other art could be a valid way to improve my technique.” “Albers was a marvelous teacher, and I will always be grateful that I had the opportunity to study with him,” says Markman. “I feel I owe Albers everything.” Additional early influences include Paul Klee, Marc Chagall, Joan Miró, Alexander Calder, and Claes Oldenburg. “You need to learn about yourself and figure out how to translate your self-knowledge into art,” he says. “You don’t want to be like everyone else. You want to figure out what makes

your art special and different in a meaningful and imaginative way.” He finished school in the late 1950s, and hit the ground running with a one-man, sell-out show at the Kanegis Gallery, then in Boston, Massachusetts. The Museum of Modern Art in New York bought one of his drawings and featured it in its exhibit, “Drawings, Watercolors, Collages: New Acquisitions.” It is still part of the permanent collection. In 1960, the Whitney Museum in New York included Markman’s work as part of its “Young Americans” series. That same year, he also started working

as a fine arts instructor at the Art Institute of Chicago. Galvanized by his successes, Markman applied for and was granted a Fulbright scholarship to study painting in Rome in 1962. During his year abroad, he discovered printmaking and learned that it appealed to a wider audience than his paintings. “The work I was doing in my prints was my best work—the best part of me,” says Markman. “I wanted to transfer the quality of that work to painting, and I have tried very hard to do that on a larger scale.”

While in Italy, he frequented local museums and became particularly enchanted with the ancient maps. Cartographic fascination prompted him to invent a country of his very own. “The map had to have a name, so I came up with Mukfa,” recounts Markman. “I wanted something slightly obscene, because the world is obscene, as you probably know.” His website describes it as a “fantasy realm of unbridled absurdity” where his alter ego, | 15

16 | Spring 2017

“Ron doesn’t f it into any of those categories, and we’re thrilled that he doesn’t.” Markman paints with acrylics and is known for repurposing most of his other materials: the aluminum plates he paints on are recycled from the Capital Gazette. Though painting has always been his primary medium, Markman also explored etching and prints in the 1960s and 1970s. He categorizes much of the artwork on loan for the exhibit as “threedimensional paintings constructed out of wood,” and considers News Stand (1992, 4' x 7' x 2'), Tabloid (2001, ~ 6' x 8'), Mukvu (2007, 7.3' x 5.5" x 2'), and Personals (2007, ~ 5' x 3'), to be its centerpieces. None of the four has been publicly displayed in Annapolis. Mukgate (2004-5, 11' x 10' x 2.5') is so immense that visitors can walk through its archway. Markman assures me it’s

the biggest piece he’s ever made, and he did so with the aid of longtime friend Dr. Richard Malmgren. The two met in 1998, through mutual friends, at a dinner party. The retired cancer researcher mentioned he did woodwork. Both have since joked that it was a match made in heaven, but Markman seriously acknowledges Malmgren as an invaluable collaborator and friend. Much of what is on display that was created in Annapolis is a product of their alliance. Markman would conceive an idea and design a plan. He would then defer to Malmgren to determine how to build the wood and aluminum structure, and eventually paint his concept onto the assembled handiwork. “It’s safe to say many of the pieces that I created over the past 18 years would not exist without his help,” he says. In an effort to provide a peek at the personal, Markman is also including in the St. John’s exhibit a collage of envelopes from letters he and his late wife sent to their daughter at summer camp. Each cover is embellished with drawings of his favorite characters and themes. “I’m very pleased with what I’m doing now, as opposed to what I was doing 50 years ago. Some artists really do their best work when they’re young,” says Markman, “but it took a long time for me to get to where I wanted to be. Now, I feel very confident in what I do and enjoy it. I just want people to see!” █


Rolland Markum, and a cast of colorful characters exist uncensored in an exaggerated alternative reality. “The content [of my art] is the political and the craziness of the world, and the craziness is what people do to each other. And [it’s] also the beauty of the world and travel—the variety of the world; it’s so complicated. All my work touches upon that, in a way,” he says. Markman retired from teaching in 1994, about three years after his wife died. During this time, he reconnected with longtime friend and artist, Barbara Cabot, who was also widowed, and the two forged a partnership. When deciding on a place to relocate, they considered the Washington, DC area so that Markman could be close to his daughter Ericka and her growing family. On-site studio space and a laid-back atmosphere were also priorities, so they opted to settle in nearby Annapolis. They moved east in 1998, and once acclimated, Markman returned to painting full-time. Nineteen years later, Markman is being honored with a presentation of his career’s creations, spanning the course of six decades. “The Fantastic World of Ronald Markman: A MiniRetrospective” debuts at the Elizabeth Myers Mitchell Gallery at St. John’s College in Annapolis on March 10, and runs through April 23. It will be the first time the hall will have a living artist return to exhibit art. His debut showcase in 2005, entitled “Heroes, Villains, and Mermaids,” was immensely popular and paved the way for a 30-piece show at the Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts in 2010.

“There’s no one-word description for Ronald Markman’s work. [For] some artists, you can say, ‘Okay—that’s detailed,’ or ‘that’s colorful,’” says Lucinda Edinberg, art educator at the Mitchell Gallery. “Ron doesn’t fit into any of those categories, and we’re thrilled that he doesn’t.” Markman and Edinberg have chosen 51 items to display in the gallery’s two rooms to highlight his evolutionary path as an artist. | 17

New Look. New Name. Same Great Festival.

CELEBRATING LOCAL ARTISTS & WINERIES Join our 8th Annual Annapolis Arts & Wine Festival. Spend 2 days interacting with local artists, demonstrations, music, and tastings of 20+ local Maryland wineries.




hen I picked up the steel guitar everyone was expecting country, but I wanted to be in outer space,” says Thomas Beall, the multi-instrumentalist who performs as Gingerwolf. Beall’s music is sometimes described as “Hawaiian space jazz,” due to its ethereal quality and his use of one of Hawaii’s most iconic instruments, the steel guitar. Beall’s unique sound has landed him on the stages of several renowned venues in the region, including the District of Columbia’s 9:30 Club, Black Cat, and most recently, the Kennedy Center. He’s also a sought-after session musician, recording with Swampcandy, Skribe, and Jimi Davies’ Mend the Hollow, among others. “I remember hearing him play his lap steel and just being blown away with how lush and beautiful his songs were,” says Davies, who asked Beall on-the-spot to play on his album.

20 | Spring 2017 | 21

Beall’s songs are sometimes described as soundscapes, an apt description of his dreamy, instrumental compositions. After writing lyric-based music for several years, he found that instrumentals allowed him to write with a greater degree of expressiveness and nuance. “Words don’t adequately say everything that you think,” he says. He gives his song “Red Bracelets” as an example. Written about a friend’s struggle with anxiety and anorexia, the song’s dynamic changes, from a driving but subdued melody to an intense storm of feeling at its end, reflects the ups and downs Beall saw his friend go through. “She’d be really closed off, and then every once in a while you would get a glimpse of the chaos inside,” he explains. In contrast to some of the serious topics he tackles in his songs, Beall takes a more lighthearted approach to his album art and stage persona. He often performs wearing a plush wolf hat, and he released his 2015 debut album, In Pizza We Crust, in a four-by-four-inch, custom-made pizza box. “I’m a goof, and I take very few things seriously. But the music, I take seriously,” he says. “So to me, it made sense that the outside was the silly gimmick, but if you really get to know it and listen to it, there’s more to it.” A native of Arnold, Beall demonstrated natural musical ability from an early age, picking up the drums, bass, and guitar, and other instruments. By high school he’d become a regular in the local music scene, attending concerts in Annapolis and Severna Park. He also began writing songs using a bass guitar and an old cassette recorder. He performed before an audience for the first time when musician friend Charles Kavoossi asked him to be his opening act at 49 West Coffeehouse, Winebar & Gallery. Beall was thrilled. “I had to skip class to learn enough songs to play. I’m sure I wasn’t very good,” he smiles. Over time, Beall kept writing and performing became easier. He decided to pursue music full-time during his senior year at University of Maryland, Baltimore. Working toward an International Relations degree by day and squeezing in band practice and gigs by night, the offer of a music publishing deal pushed him to choose between the two paths. He chose music. And while the publishing deal ultimately fell through, he has never second-guessed his decision. “It got me to finally follow my heart and create,” he says. Since then, Beall has pursued his dream with passion, drive, and an admirable do-it-yourself spirit. He set up his first tour by sending out more than

22 | Spring 2017

grow. “On my last tour, I played to crowds of people I didn’t know, who were there to see me,” he says. “That’s what you’re doing it for, really.” While on the road, Beall acts as an ambassador of the Annapolis music community, handing out compilation CDs to people he meets along the way. “I think my friends are making some of the coolest art out there right now, and I want the world to see it,” he says. This summer, Beall will release his second album, Watercolor Conversation, a collection of songs with a harder edge than his previous material. With bassist Eric Courtney

and drummer Rory Brennan, Beall is creating an album with a more dynamic range, prominently featuring electric guitar and driving drums. “The mellow is more mellow, but the heavy is more heavy,” he says. The album will also have themed artwork, including a black and white cover that can be customized with an accompanying palette of watercolor paints. The cover’s design aptly reflects Beall’s original, creative approach to his music: “I’m gonna take every chance I can on this opportunity and we’ll see what happens,” he says. █


a thousand email inquiries and stringing together 20 dates from the responses he received. Although some of the venues were less than stellar, he used the opportunity to hone his craft and connect with music fans one room at a time. “It has grown very naturally, in a kind of grassroots way,” he says. Today, Beall does four to five short tours each year, mostly on the East Coast. On each outing, the audiences | 23

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black-and-white image of hardworking Greenville line cooks quickly and expertly prepare warm meals amid typical kitchen chaos. A family of Iraqi refugees caught in a tender moment outside their Baltimore row house—the mother’s black headscarf drapes gracefully around her neck, her arms wrap tightly around her youngest son, her two older sons and husband stand nearby, staring in different directions, lost in thought or gratitude for their new home. A white man and black woman embrace in the middle of a Black Lives Matter march, frozen for an instant of absolute love and empathy. Allison Zaucha’s photographs are powerful. Her current personal favorite (it changes all the time) is of a mother in Benin, Africa, crouched over a smoky fire, cooking her family’s dinner. “You can see all the muscles in her back and the strength

in supporting her family,” Zaucha says of the photo, which she took last year. Themes of courage, strength, and resilience are common throughout Zaucha’s work, and understandably so. The daughter of a hardworking single mother, Zaucha learned the importance of these traits firsthand while growing up in Philadelphia. “That’s the lens that I’ve seen life through,” she says. “Hard work, determination . . . I don’t think I’d be doing what I’m doing if it weren’t for [my mom].” The image of the mother by the fire is one of many that Zaucha took for her recently published Dreams That Could Be (October 2016), a photography book documenting the lives of four young African and Indian students—Julienne, Victorine, Monish, and Divya— determined to complete their education and carve out better paths for themselves, their families, | 27

and their communities. Zaucha photographed, wrote, designed, and produced the book pro bono for Givology, a nonprofit devoted to making a sound education accessible for all children around the world. Driven by a desire to effect positive change, Zaucha devoted nearly two years of her life to completing the project, 21 days of which were spent in India and Africa. There, she immersed herself in the lives of the students and their families, producing hundreds of stunningly 28 | Spring 2017

“...and with my photography, I can be a vehicle to help people and promote positive change.”

beautiful photographs that show the full breadth of their struggles, optimism, and strength. Zaucha was determined to give each student a voice and show the true successes that happen through education: “[I thought] why don’t we look at the students who are really working and give them a name . . . Don’t call them ‘Africa,’ call them ‘Julienne,’” she says on a bitterly cold January night at Annapolis’ Sailor Oyster Bar on West Street. “I think that my greater purpose is to help

people,” she continues, “and with my photography, I can be a vehicle to help people and promote positive change.” And help them she has. The fall launch of Dreams That Could Be has brought in more than $14,000 in support of educational programs for students like Julienne, Victorine, Monish, and Divya. With her latest project, Zaucha continues documenting stories of strength and hope, but much closer to home, in the public housing neighborhood

of Newtowne 20 in Annapolis. For the past six months, Zaucha has visited the community every week, attending Bible studies and kickball games, even teaching a photography workshop, while documenting three residents— Ladawn, Frank, and Tony—and their stories of remarkable persistence. “[I wanted to produce] positive media about a community that’s so stigmatized and stereotyped,” she explains. One of her subjects had been homeless for more than 42 years before recently

moving into his first apartment. The concept for the Newtowne 20 project came to Zaucha after learning of a community program called Love 1, created by Pastor Joey Tomassoni of the Downtown Hope Church. “I’m really inspired by the drive that’s within people,” Zaucha says. “When I do documentary photography, I don’t want to photograph a begging homeless man. I want to photograph the homeless man that’s working his butt off, trying

to survive. I’m always drawn to the hardworking person.” And when it comes to working hard, Zaucha does just that. A few nights later, on an equally chilly January evening, the selfdescribed type A photographer is shooting a lively restaurant scene at Preserve on Main Street. She moves quickly and with intention, holding her trusty Canon at the ready as she sees her shot across the room and does whatever

is needed to get it. She easily engages her subjects, putting them at ease with her laid-back, positive warmth while simultaneously running through shot lists in her head, waiting for the perfect scene to come into frame, and then executing it calmly, thoroughly. “In my mind,” she says later, describing her process, “I’m seeing all these things happening all at once. I’m subconsciously watching everything. You see frames all | 29

the time—like those guys talking [over there], those connections happening, that guy with the striped shirt—everything’s a picture. I can’t help it. Everything’s moving fast . . . That’s the world. [But] if I’m gonna tell a story the way that I want to tell a story, I need to slow down and spend time there . . . I’m learning to wait, to give [myself ] time to wait for the shot.”

30 | Spring 2017

After finishing the shoot, Zaucha describes her early days as a photographer. As a fourth grader, Zaucha was setting up photo shoots with her mother’s dresses and her cat, Spoo, using her grandfather’s old Konica film camera. But it wasn’t until her time at East Carolina University, first working at her college newspaper and then entering and winning a national art exhibition for her

photography, that she decided to pursue her art professionally. “That was the slap in the face that I needed to go get it,” she says. These days, the Annapolis resident travels up and down the East Coast, working as a portrait and documentary photographer for numerous clients ranging from nonprofits (e.g., Aid India and Cercle Social) to publications (e.g.,

to think about the universal conditions that affect humanity and to promote positive change in their communities.” It’s a lofty goal, but she means every word. “It’s not about me, in the truest sense,” she says, “It’s about the people in the pictures, and it’s about that story. Photography is not changing the world; it’s the work that’s done in the photos that’s shaping the world.” █


“It’s not about me, in the truest sense,” she says, “it’s about the people in the pictures..."

Life and Thyme and Up.St.ART Annapolis) to companies (e.g., sweetgreen and Brooks Brothers). She’s inspired by several artists, including photographers Mary Ellen Mark, Cassandra Giraldo, and Henri Cartier-Bresson, and often Googles their images before heading off to work. An idealist at heart, Zaucha’s mission statement on her website reads: “[T]o empower viewers | 31



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169 WEST ST, ANNAPOLIS, MD 21401 | 410-280-5160


Layout & design by Weitzman Agency. Photos by John Bildahl

iinnttrrooddee W W a a d d BByy BBrreenn

Alan Weitzman is directing a photo shoot in his recording studio. He collaborates with photographer, John Bildahl, and Swampcandy front man, Ruben Dobbs, the sound stage wallpapered in acoustic foam is where he will stand, he tells them. Weitzman sifts through a rack of leather and studded garments that could easily be found in the dressing room of a wellaged British rocker. He’s considering which jacket will best complement his black jeans and boots. His brilliant shock of white hair is combed toward the back of his head. Weitzman asks for help with the clasp of a rope bracelet for his right wrist, which bears four more; just as many bangles circle his left wrist. His rugged appearance is the deliberate and crafted exterior of a multilayered individual skilled at conveying a message; it cloaks him in mystery and anonymity.

ock n Roll R e k li le tt li is g n “Advertisi dance.” le p eo p e th t h g ri it when you get 34 | Spring 2017

The Annapolis advertising man’s enigmatic disguise mirrors the signature styles of his musical and cinematic heroes. Picture equal parts Keith Richards and John Wayne; part genteel and humble cowboy who knows just when things need to get rough to save the town folk from the land-hungry ranch owner and part rebellious, truth-telling rocker, staring down the cruelty of the world from behind the microphone. Unraveling the mystery of Alan Weitzman involves looking beneath the outer layer of leather and metal, dark glasses and ingrained social graces to reveal vulnerability and compassion. To some degree, Weitzman does act as a maverick in his professional life. The gutsy entrepreneur once borrowed $5000 to start an ad agency after reading David Ogilvy’s, Confessions of an Advertising Man. I had no clients. I had no experience, but I always liked to write, says Weitzman. He placed a provocative ad in a local newspaper letting them know there was a new player in town and that he could write copy better than their current agency. It worked. For the past 35 years, Weitzman has been a straight-shooting, rough-riding leader in the advertising industry.

Clarity and honesty are trademarks of a Weitzman ad. Ads, poems, and prayers are often the better for brevity, says Weitzman. He impresses upon his clients that integrity in advertising and business are paramount. If you want advertising that works, make a better promise. Then keep it, Weitzman says. The Weitzman Agency has earned over 143 awards—Clios, Tellys, ADDYs and ANDYs—at the national, regional and local levels. The certificates sit on his bookshelves in overstuffed, brown, Kraft paper envelopes; he long ago stopped displaying them because of framing expenses and lack of space. The native Londoner emigrated to America with his family at age 14. The only thing I knew about America was from watching kid flicks. I knew the gangsters lived on the East Coast and the cowboys lived in the west, and I decided I was going to be a cowboy,says Weitzman. He acted the part of a cowboy—determined to save the day—even before he left London. He remembers always being the kid who wanted to help others, and he feels his peers knew it. If someone got hurt outside, I wanted to be the doc. I would patch them up with a bandage. It made me feel useful,says Weitzman. There were less fortunate times in his childhood. Circumstances forced Weitzman into foster care, which to this day remains a traumatic memory. You never forget it, but you’re better if you don’t spend too much time remembering it. Young Weitzman was more interested in jazz, blues, and writing stories than in his studies. To complicate matters, he wrote with his left hand, which at that time teachers considered a flaw to be corrected. They actually caned you for not writing with your right hand, says Weitzman. Weitzman bears the last name of his Jewish stepfather and with it took on the burden of fighting antisemitism that was rampant in England at that time. Although confronted and physically abused because of my last name, I would never back down or cop out, says Weitzman. | 35

These early trials reinforced in him, not only a defiant grit, but an ability to empathize with the painful experiences of others. Weitzman crafts insights and observations about life struggles into brutally honest song lyrics. Over the past 15 years, Weitzman, in collaboration with Dobbs, has produced a five-CD collection that Weitzman describes as heavy country with a steady drip of rock ‘n’ roll. Dobbs and Weitzman have formed a musical partnership and trusting friendship. Dobbs explains Weitzman’s need for an outlet. It allows him to turn his weakest and his most vulnerable moments into something creative, says Dobbs. Weitzman’s low-toned, gravelly voice is reminiscent of Johnny Cash. Dobbs says that Weitzman prefers his musical expression dark and brooding. Deeply introspective subjects are covered: the anguish of watching someone fall to drug addiction; the tale of a soldier lost in a senseless war; surviving one more inebriated, fear-filled night. In his song, Jack Daniels and Jesus, Weitzman sings, The light came up this morning on the Bible by my bed. Thought about what used to be, reached for Jack instead. When Weitzman writes a song he emphasizes the universality of his subject in the chorus. As the writer, the lyrics can belong to you, but the chorus needs to belong to the public, says Weitzman.

“You can’t get too close”

36 | Spring 2017

Weitzman continues to find ways of feeling useful in his community. He tutors kids twice a week at the after-school homework program at the Annapolis Youth Services Bureau (AYSB) located in The Stanton Center. Weitzman relates to children living in underprivileged circumstances. When I spend time with these kids, I get lost in their world. I enjoy their company, says Weitzman. He is the major sponsor of the annual AYSB Christmas party held at the Annapolis Waterfront Hotel ballroom. The kids and their families have dinner, are entertained by a magician, pop open Christmas crackers, and leave with smiles and arms full of presents. Weitzman says, I want these kids to have such a great party even the rich kids will want to come. By more than just appearances, Weitzman has fulfilled his childhood aspiration of becoming an American cowboy. Cowboys tell the truth, defend the underdog, take on the bully, make a plan and take a risk. They sing about journeys through heartbreak and anguish around a crackling fire. They give what they can to their fellow man and leave the town better than when they first rode in on their mustang. As Weitzman rides off to his photo shoot—guitar slung over his back— all that is amiss from his outfit is a ten-gallon hat. A white one, of course. | 37

38 | Spring 2017


My Brother's Keeper opened in 2009, after two years of planning and preparation. In 2017, it will be knocked down by the Bozzuto Group to build a large retail and apartment building, in which the shop has been promised a new store front.

40 | Spring 2017





better relationships with he day is turning to gave up her month of leave one another around the evening at My Brother’s time to cover for a coworker one thing we always seem Keeper Barbershop whose child is critically ill. to have in common: the (MBK), and everyone’s More clients stream into the talking food. Someone warm shop, shedding hats and barbershop.” It’s a place where community members can jokes that chitterlings made of gloves. It’s early January, and resolve interpersonal conflicts tofu might be more appetizing baby, it’s cold outside. and talk about life, news, and than the real thing. “How Bishop Craig Coates, politics. "It seems to be one do you get tofu chitterlings? owner of MBK, is a pastor of the only safe environments You went too far. No,” Tiffany at Fresh Start Church, a left where black Neal playfully men and black scolds as laughter boys feel they can rings through the by JULIA GIBB have a voice,” says building. “They’d photography by ALLISON ZAUCHA Coates. It has be gluten free,” lived up to, even cracks barber transcended, that Derrick Brown. vision, becoming a gathering Neal’s young son Ethan waits nondenominational church place where people of various nearby for a haircut from he founded in Glen Burnie, ethnicities find accord in his aunt Natasha “Missy” Maryland. He is also a tailor conversation. To ensure that Trader, who has been a master and an internationally known their services are accessible to barber for 25 years. He’s on designer, specializing in everyone in the community, the verge of interrupting his fashion for female priests. MBK keeps its prices mother’s conversation. “You Coates’ faith and dedication affordable. have to wait, I’m talking right to his community are integral MBK’s one-story building, now,” she says, gently. He’s to his business model. “The disappointed, but minds his whole concept behind MBK,” with its painted brick facade and traditional striped barber mother without complaint. he says, “was to tap into the pole, was built in 1975 by the Neal is tired—she recently black community, to build | 41

Illustrations by Lindsay Bolin Lowery

“ Yes! You’ll look like new money walking out of here.”

Marvin has been coming to My Brother's Keeper for three to four years.

42 | Spring 2017

The barbershop now faces a new challenge: 135 West Street, dwarfed by the boxy brick buildings that have sprung up around it, is slated for demolition this year. Coates is searching for a temporary location from which to operate while real estate services organization The Bozzuto Group constructs a five-story condominium complex that boasts artfully designed living spaces. Coates is partnering with the company as part owner of the retail space on the new building’s first floor. He is hopeful about the future of the business. “We’re going to miss that walk-by traffic for a minute, but it doesn’t mean we won’t get it back,” he says, adding that the shop’s new location will have residents living above it who can conveniently stop downstairs for a great cut. Still, some will be sad to see the old building go. According to Trader, some of MBK’s clients were regulars at the various Chambers Barbershop locations and have continued to frequent MBK. Some of the older folk say that the little building is the only thing on West Street they recognize anymore. At Calvin Thompson’s hair-cutting booth, Jamar Johnson is ready to leave behind 10 years of dreadlocks and, he hopes, the stress of the past year. Thompson carefully snips away the locks. “You got your [barber] license, Calvin? I’m nervous,” Neal teases. But later, as Thompson begins trimming Johnson’s beard into a neat goatee, she exclaims, “Yes! You’ll look like new money walking out of here.” More customers have arrived, waiting in seats along the wall. Some pop in just to get warm and catch up with each other. Johnson admires Thompson’s handiwork in the mirror. He is satisfied, unburdened, and ready to face a new year. █


Evan gets a haircut by Missy.

African American-owned business F.R. Hawkins and Sons for Reverend John T. Chambers Sr. The Chambers business legacy dates back to the 1940s, when Chambers Sr. opened his first barber shop. Chambers Barbershop had several locations in what was then called the Fourth Ward (now Ward Two), until a wave of urban renewal, or “urban removal” as some customers call it, forced the shop out of the neighborhood. The “Harlem of Annapolis,” the city’s hub of African American culture and entertainment, was razed to make way for parking garages and government buildings. The business found its new home on West Street, in the heart of what is now the Annapolis Arts District. It continued under the management of Chambers Sr.’s three sons, Phillip, John T. Jr., and Carroll, and later, Phillip’s daughter Jewell Chambers-Hawkins. In 2001, the Chambers’ business closed as a new wave of area improvements kept the street under construction for two years, restricting traffic to the area. Chambers-Hawkins, who knew Coates from Chambers Barbershop and from church, was pleased when he and MBK’s first barber, Derrick Brown, expressed an interest in the West Street property. Having sat empty for a long period, the place needed work. After years of renovation, and weathering the city’s ponderous permitting process, the barber shop opened in late 2008, with its grand opening on January 21, 2009—the day after Barack Obama’s historic inauguration as the United States’ first African American president. Chambers Jr., who also served as Annapolis’ first African American mayor, received the first haircut at MBK.

Derrick Brown cuts at the first chair in My Brother's Keeper. | 43

Get Some. a nna p oli scanoeandk ayak . c om 311 Third St. Annapolis, MD 21403

& 222 Severn Ave. Bldg. 2 Annapolis, MD 21403 | 410.263.2303


46 | Spring 2017


: g i P y l g U



hen you see the sign for The Ugly Pig, don’t go into the store expecting a barbeque joint. This is not your average franchised sandwich shop, either. On the contrary, this hub of culinary delights will meet the lofty standards of foodies, mission-driven environmentalists, and healthconscious eaters alike. George Williams IV, proprietor of the establishment, offers a different way to celebrate these porcine animals. They are Spanishheritage Ossabaw-breed hogs, raised locally in Davidsonville on non-genetically modified pasture and forest—the way wild pigs are raised in Spain. Williams’ charcuterie is from this breed, minus the environmental impacts of importing it from afar. Butchery is done at the store, giving Williams the freedom to make nontraditional cuts and keep waste to a minimum, make bone broth, render lard,

and make his dry-cured, uniqueflavored bacon, which is so popular that he can’t seem to keep it stocked. When the charcuterie is cured, he slices it by hand—his nod to how the Spanish do it. The Ugly Pig does not just specialize in charcuterie. Surprisingly, another bestselling item is his chicken salad. Williams shops exclusively from farms and farmers’ markets, allowing him to offer non-GMO, organically sourced ingredients for everything in the store, including what goes into each chicken salad sandwich. Williams makes everything on the premises, from the fermented celery to the mayonnaise, mustard, and vinegar. Pickling got Williams started on this venture. Starting at age 16, he enjoyed making pickles for people at Christmas. What became a means for selling pickles grew to what Williams terms a “philosophical store,” representing | 47

his sustainability values. His route was a bit circuitous. He managed his college’s greenhouse, gardened on rooftops, and ran a seed-saving program in Maine. Williams has a master’s degree in art history and museum studies, and researched Southeast Asian ceramics. “I enjoy traveling a lot and frequently asked landlords to teach me their home style cooking techniques. I have a large food-based memory bank.” The store itself was a restoration project—living by the Bay has its downsides when it comes to dampness and structures. With help from his indispensable sideman (and current helping hand in the store’s operations) Dave, he rebuilt walls, laid a floor, and put

48 | Spring 2017

in a curing room. Williams gave a few nods to the Freer and Sackler Galleries, the Smithsonian museum where he worked, with the handmade, hand-died rugs from Iran and the photos shot by

“It’s vegetalist to think all pickles come from cucumbers. We pickle everything we can...” a Smithsonian friend of pigs at the farm, framed in the style that he once framed museum works. When Williams’ endowment ran out at the Smithsonian, he decided it was time to “join the food conversation that is taking place nationally.”

Art history and international culinary experimentation provide some of the roots for Williams’ house made foods. There is a lot of Asian influence, including smoked Japanese plums, miso, and a spicy, fermented Korean condiment called gochujang. Also on hand are quintessentially American offerings such as homemade peanut butter. Williams ferments items in the store, including apple cider vinegar and a range of seasonal items. He hasn’t forgotten his pickling roots, and with a smile shares an expression he uses— vegetablism—saying, “It’s vegetalist to think all pickles come from cucumbers. We pickle everything we can, all year long. I’m pickling turnips and beets now, and will do carrots, cucumbers, daikon . . . All year long, there is plenty of stuff to pickle.” While all of the menu’s offerings are organically grown or raised, the menu itself has an organic quality, changing with seasonal food availability. At any given time of the year, you’ll find something seasonal rotating in, and a mainstay such as hummus, potato salad, seasonal jams, or veggie salads, or a split pea soup with ham that Williams has baked, along with stock from reserve ham fluid and fat (he makes his own ham glaze). You may find a mango-mole sandwich for a day’s offering, made with mango that Williams marinated and his own mole paste. Williams’ business model celebrates the area’s farming tradition of the last 400 years while incorporating the international foods that Americans enjoy, without creating a big carbon footprint. His nontraditional foods are gaining traction and garnering reviews. He deliberately cast a wide food net in case something

Herb Oil Tip: Here’s a

failed—and so far, that hasn’t occurred. Annapolitans who are food savvy comprise his growing market. “There are many people looking for a place with food that blends innovation and new trends along with the classicism they expect. They want a really good sandwich, and are also looking for a marketplace that acts as a bridge to the farmers’ markets—a place that celebrates what’s local.” One thing you won’t encounter at the Ugly Pig is smoke and mirrors. Williams is committed to transparency. Ask him a question about any ingredient, and he can tell you where it was sourced, down to how much was used. He wants to show how easy it is to transform foods into something special with the items he sells, providing ideas for what customers can do at home. As for Williams, even with his exceptional, conscientious efforts, his aspirations for The Ugly Pig are modest: “I would be honored to receive the “best sandwich” award, and it’s a dream of mine to see my yellow mustard in the Bowie Baysox Stadium!” █


preparation tip used at Williams' store. When making an herb oil or herb infusion, make sure you keep the olive oil very cold when you add the fresh herbs. This will help to preserve the herb’s brilliant color and aroma. George uses this technique when making parsley oil for hummus and as a step in his pesto. | 49





From the celebrated to the promising. It’s all here at the Mitchell Gallery. The Fantastic World of Ronald Markman: A Mini-Retrospective

March 10 - April 23, 2017

Image & Imagination: Anne Arundel County Juried Exhibition 2017

May 23 - June 4, 2017

For information about all exhibition-related events including tours, lectures, and book club,

visit or call 410-626-2556. THE UNEXPECTED TREASURE IN ANNAPOLIS

St. John’s College | 60 College Avenue | Annapolis, MD 21401 Ron Markman (American, b. 1931), Traffic Jam, Mixed media. Photography courtesy of Robert Madden.

Anita Hagan, Mermaid, 2012. Mixed media. Image & Imagination 2012.

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䌀漀洀椀渀最 ㈀ ㄀㜀 琀 漀

⠀㐀㄀ ⤀ ㈀㈀㐀ⴀ 㔀㄀㤀 簀 眀眀眀⸀搀愀猀愀氀漀渀愀渀搀猀瀀愀⸀挀漀洀 簀 䄀渀渀愀瀀漀氀椀猀


52 | Spring 2017


photography by KAREN DAVIES


oredom hung so thick in our fifth-grade classroom, near the end of Ronald Reagan’s first term, that we kept half an ear open for car radios two stories below on Green Street—“Nothing HAPPens on New Year’s Day”—while our teacher, Mrs. C, edified us about . . . I forget what. At the end of the day, my friends and I bolted from school and made our way up Main Street, past the Burger King whose cigarette machine would, just a year later, hold an occult power over me. We often ended up browsing around Lenny’s Junk Shop, located on the first block of West Street by the present-day Rams Head Tavern, near a brick wall where the spray-painted one-liner I’D LIKE YOU BETTER IF WE SLEPT TOGETHER greeted passersby for years and years. Lenny’s truly was a junk shop, insofar as what it sold— like a roomful of pogo sticks—didn’t interest me or lead me so far into the forbidden—like a voluminous

collection of Playboys from the 1960s and ’70s—that I’d never have dared to bring it to the counter. The only thing I can definitely remember buying there was a bumper sticker emblazoned with HEY KIDS, LET ’S GO TO LENNY ’S JUNK SHOP! You can’t go to any of the places where I loitered back in the ’80s, like Lenny’s or Oceans II Records on Main Street, in which—and presumably at different ages—I bought cassettes of ABBA’s Super Trouper and (on the day it came out!!) Tom Waits’ Rain Dogs. But mostly I remember the bookstores in and around downtown, so many I can’t recall all their names; although there couldn’t have been more than five or six between 1983 and 1989, the mythic era of my adolescence. Even that number of bookstores, in a town the size of Annapolis, seems incredible to me now that books themselves have become an increasingly esoteric throwback to a pre-Internet and pre-iPhone era. No doubt print was,

The Annapolis Bookstore present day | 53

even then, on its way out, because I loved those bookstores for their homegrown, slightly ramshackle atmosphere. A benign seediness permeated West Street Books, across the street from Lenny’s, which seemed to extend for miles—one dusty, dimlylit room opening into another, until some rickety stairs led up to even more dilapidated, bookglutted chambers. I remember

books about UFOs, plenty of Kurt Vonnegut paperbacks—including Mother Night, which my sixthgrade teacher, Ms. L, found in my desk and then forbade me, moralistically, ever to bring back to school—and Diane Wakosi’s Motorcycle Betrayal Poems, whose 1970s-era cover I recall better than its contents. How did such a store’s owners pay the rent? Certainly they didn’t make much

The Annapolis Bookstore present day

54 | Spring 2017

money from twelve-year-old me, In Charing Cross, at the top who was more likely to hunch of Maryland Avenue, a slightly over a wooden step stool, furtively officious man (the proprietor?) rereading The Godfather’s salacious perched behind the counter, opening chapter (“She felt Sonny’s stroking his Van Dyke-ish beard mouth on hers, his lips tasting of and guarding the microfiche rolls burnt tobacco, bitter”), than to buy of Books in Print. I’m sorry if I do anything except an occasional 50¢ this gentleman an injustice by thus paperback or the BIG BROTHER describing him; in my adolescence, IS WATCHING YOU poster that I was hyper-conscious of authority adorned my bedroom until I left figures and always inwardly ready for college. to mock them. Downtown Yet he let my proper had friend and Books, and the worlds more highbrow me put our bookstores, photocopied they gave me access to, including poetry became my ticket out The Haunted magazine, Love Bookshop, whose Decagon, out for of town; but without owner’s black sale. (No one those long-gone cat famously bought a copy, bookstores I wouldn’t lolled in the of course.) He window facing really did act have found as many Main Street. I’m as a gatekeeper, of them (books & embarrassed to since in those say I spent just as pre-Internet worlds). much time, if not days the arcane more, across the street at Crown volumes of poetry and literary Books, which was widely reviled fiction I was so hot to obtain were when it opened for insinuating a only available by special order. I’m chain-store ethos—and pricing— afraid my jerk-hood increased with into downtown. I secretively my literary sophistication, since loved the store for its wealth of sometimes I ordered books on mass-market paperbacks, many the basis of their titles only—Bela of which I wouldn’t have been allowed to read at home. After school and on weekends, I pored over the excruciatingly awkward first-sex scenes in Judy Blume’s Forever and the giggleinducing gore-arias of Stephen King’s The Stand, the bulk of whose 900+ pages I read right there in the store.

but without those long-gone bookstores I wouldn’t have found as many of them (books and worlds). I mourn the loss of such spaces, not just in Annapolis but also in my adopted home of California, where iconic independent bookstores like Santa Monica’s Midnight Special and Cody’s in Berkeley have closed their doors since I moved out here twenty years ago. Many young writers I know, though, seem to have found their own ways into literature— not in bookstores but via the Internet. A student in my writing workshop recently raved about discovering recordings of poets like Langston Hughes on Spotify. Who knew? So I don’t mean to cling preciously to my own, oldschool way of encountering the Word…. Yet I do cling to it, and to those hours I spent haunting the shelves of book-clogged rooms that felt like, and were, my other homes. To the owners and shiftworkers of those sanctuaries where this know-it-all teenager treated the inventory like a library’s stacks and, every once in a while, actually bought a book: I’m sorry I took you for granted. █

The Annapolis Bookstore present day


Lugosi’s White Christmas comes to mind—and then declined to buy them, leaving him (I understood years later) on the hook with the distributor. I know when Larry Levis’ Winter Stars—which I ordered and bought—arrived, because I wrote the date on the book’s inside flap: August 8, 1988. Those poems, with their evocations of a childhood in California’s Central Valley, spoke as directly to my teenaged ennui as Dylan’s “Visions of Johanna.” Since I encountered it at fifteen, Levis’ “The Poet at Seventeen” has been one of my all-time favorites: I hated high school then, & on weekends drove A tractor through the widowed f ields. It was so boring I memorized poems above the engine’s monotone. Sometimes whole days slipped past without my noticing . . . In 1988, I, too, was bored more often than not—bored of my hometown’s suffocating quaintness; bored of killing time at Annapolis Senior; bored of sailboats, sailboats, sailboats; bored of being myself— whoever that was. Books, and the worlds they gave me access to, became my ticket out of town; | 55

th litans i w s w nnapo e i v r e ! s e Int inent A i r o t s r i m e o h t Pr e r a h s o h w Join Scott MacMullan for timely conversations with prominent Annapolitans to discuss these historic and contemporary stories.

Scott MacMullan

LISTEN TO INTERVIEWS WITH: Annapolis Historian Janice Hayes-Williams Graphic Designer Joe Barsin Annapolis Fork Blogger Cara McKendrick Photographer Jay Fleming Annapolis SPCA, Chris Jimenez South River Federation Executive Director Kate Fritz Restaurateur & Mayoral Candidate Gavin Buckley #oneannapolis organizer Da'Juan Gay Mayor Mike Pantelides

Bartender Eddie Lamb Civil Rights Leader Carl Snowden Former Mayor Ellen Moyer Historic Annapolis CEO Robert Clark Muralist Jeff Huntington Naptown Pint, aka Liz Murphy West & Rhode Riverkeeper Jeff Holland CEO of The Annapolis Trust Reggie Broddie

The Annapolis Podcast is produced and hosted by Scott MacMullan. Phone: 443.494.9775


SUBSCRIBE AND FOLLOW: Facebook: /theannapolispodcast/ iTunes: The Annapolis Podcast Twitter: @smacmullan Website:


with the Visual Arts department at Anne Arundel Community College with the the Visual Visual Arts Arts department department at at with Anne Arundel Arundel Community Community College College Anne

 Courses range from the traditional fine arts to digital design and time-based media.

 Curriculum emphasizes the technical and conceptual aspects of visual ideation.  Courses range from the traditional fine arts  Courses range from the traditional fine arts to digital design and time-based media. digital design time-based toNewest course and additions includemedia. animation and lithography.  Curriculum emphasizes the technical and  Curriculum emphasizes the technical and conceptual aspects of visual ideation. conceptual aspects of visual ideation.

AACC teaches courses in:

 Newest course additions include  Newest course additions include • Art History.and lithography. animation animation and lithography. • Ceramics.

AACC teaches courses in: in: • Graphic Design. courses AACC teaches Painting and Drawing. ••Art History. • Art History. Photography. ••Ceramics. • Ceramics. Printmaking. ••Graphic Design. • Graphic Design. • Sculpture. • Painting and Drawing. • Painting and Drawing. Video Game Design. ••Photography. • Photography. Video and Media Production. ••Printmaking. • Printmaking. Web Design. ••Sculpture. • Sculpture. • Video Game Design. • Video Game Design. • Video and Media Production. • Video and Media Production. • Web Design. • Web Design.

If you love art and want to see what AACC can offer you, visit Photo courtesy of Paul Graves, Photography Student at AACC.

If you love art and want to see what AACC can If you love art and want to see what AACC can offer you, visit offer you, visit Photo courtesy of Paul Graves, Photography Student at AACC. Photo courtesy of Paul Graves, Photography Student at AACC.



photography by KAREN DAVIES


n Annapolis, where nautical gift shops and starched uniforms are often stacked on top of one another, a jewelry box-sized showroom on West Street is bringing some unforeseen wind gusts to the city’s sails. Gabrielle Herbst has channeled her flair to create Sparrow, an unusual jewelry boutique. It’s a combination of a white-walled, sunshine-filled voodoo apothecary and a high-end jewelry store. Black suede chokers are displayed on gold skulls. Offerings include rings made of gold snakes with garnet eyes, rose-gold webs with opal spiders, labradorite skeletons, or sterling silver lace inlaid with moissanite. Don’t worry, Herbst can explain in depth what labradorite and mossanite are; she’s probably wearing one of them at the moment. Her tattooed hands sparkle with a variety of stacked rings that outnumber her fingers. Herbst also wears an evil-eye shaped, antique diamond ring that was passed down from her grandmother. Herbst’s grandmother’s ring and other pieces of jewelry that trickled down to her from previous generations were so

58 | Spring 2017

special and beautiful to Herbst that she became inspired to open a shop that sold solely antique jewelry. The shop’s name came from her love of antique birdcages. She bought ten of them and rented a space in West Annapolis, but soon came to see a bittersweet reality when her business faltered; bitter because Herbst had to alter her original vision, yet sweet because she could now find and develop modern one-of-akind designer pieces that will be future heirlooms just like her grandmother’s ring. The Sparrow of today is not what it was when it first opened in 2014. The switch from old to new started with a change in the shop’s location. In 2016, when Herbst and her husband, Scott, decided to open their second restaurant, Sailor Oyster Bar, they carved out an adjoining space for Sparrow. She painted the walls and floor a glowing white, went dumpster diving for marble, and hung the only remaining birdcage from the past location in a window facing West Street. Then came a new method of finding designers. She had | 59


to move her eye from the streets to the Web. With help from Instagram, Herbst’s catalog of designers continues to grow, and each brings a different style to the gold and glass cases of Sparrow while perfectly aligning with Herbst’s killer stylistic vision. Artists from New York bring an edge, designers from California have a more natural aesthetic, and local talent creates items only sold at Sparrow. It’s not easy getting on the marble in Sparrow. Due to the massive community of jewelers on Instagram, Herbst can be choosy and keep her expectations high while still having a little something for everyone. If she comes across a designer who piques her interest, she’ll do her research: Is every piece handmade in a small production atmosphere? Do the designers ethically source their stones? Do they use recycled materials? Is anything plated? (If so, that’s a no-no.) Herbst explores the metals and stones that each designer works with to ensure that what she’s offering to her clients is of honest quality. “If it looks like a diamond, then it’s a diamond,” she says. “It’s not a crystal or a cubic zirconia. Those kind of things are important to me.” She doesn’t mind hunkering down and searching for new products because she prefers hard-to-find designs to those that she calls “massproduced and saturated.” Herbst intends all items offered for sale at Sparrow 60 | Spring 2017

to be special. Most of the things that go through the shop will never be seen again, and if ordered for a second round, will have a new combination of elements, per Herbst’s design. Sparrow’s originality and Herbst’s passion and knowledge do not go unnoticed. Her ideas and design skills have attracted a growing number of clients requesting custom orders—a timely and intimate back-and-forth process that she enjoys. Recently, the tiny West Street shop has changed its Tuesday hours to “by appointment only,” so that customers don’t have to compete for her time. As more items are added to Sparrow’s website, orders come in from farther away. There isn’t an aspect of Sparrow that Herbst doesn’t adore. Scrolling for new designers gives her purpose, watching them grow is her inspiration, and having a part in providing future heirlooms is her motivation. Another location, hatching in Washington, DC, just might take flight, so in the future, we could be looking at a flock of Sparrows. █

Competition &Exhibition Exhibition Competition &&Exhibition Competition


WWW.PAINTANNAPOLIS.ORG WWW.PAINTANNAPOLIS.ORG Thursday in the Park, oil, Joseph W. Palmerio, Paint Annapolis 2016 Thursday in the Park, oil, Joseph W. Palmerio, Paint Annapolis 2016 Thursday in the Park, oil, Joseph W. Palmerio, Paint Annapolis 2016

Also coming this Spring with Also coming this Spring with Also Maryland coming thisFederation Spring with of Art: Maryland Federation of Art:

Maryland Federation of Art: Member Melange I & II Member Melange I & II Member Melange I &March II 1-25 March MarchMarch 1-25 51-25 Receptions: & 19 Receptions: Receptions: MarchMarch 5 & 19 5 & 19

Stormy Weather Stormy Weather Stormy Weather February 23-April 8 February 23-April23-April 8 February 8 Reception: February 26 at the Reception: February 26 at the Reception: February 26 at the Annapolis Maritime Museum Annapolis Maritime Museum Annapolis Maritime Museum



IN THE BAG! IN Sale THE BAG! Mystery Art Mystery Art Sale March Mystery15Art Sale March 15 March 15

Maryland Federation of Art | 18 State Circle, Annapolis MD 21401 410.268.4566 |

Art on Paper Art29on Paper March 30-April Art on Paper March 29 Reception: April30-April 9

Maryland Federation of Art | 18 State Circle, Annapolis MD 21401 Stormy Seas, photograph, Stormy 2017 Maryland Federation ofKirsten Art | 18Hines, Circle,Weather Annapolis MD 21401 410.268.4566 |State 410.268.4566 |

Stormy Seas, photograph, Kirsten Hines, Stormy Weather 2017 Stormy Seas, photograph, Kirsten Hines, Stormy Weather 2017

March 30-April 29 Reception: April 9 Reception: April 9



PRESERVE & PROTECT 64 | Spring 2017



e started with sauerkraut, then moved on to hot sauces. Pickles and preserves soon followed. Jeremy Hoffman began experimenting with fermented and pickled foods to create unique flavors for the menu at Restaurant Eve, the celebrated Alexandria, Virginia restaurant where he was chef de cuisine (head chef ). It sparked in him a passion. “I started to develop recipes and play around with different flavors,” he says. “It turned into something that I really loved.” Before long, his preserved creations appeared in items across the menu. “At one point, we had five different house made hot sauces” he says with a smile. When he and his wife, Michelle, decided to set out on their own, they knew preserved foods would be a focus. “We were looking for a place to either open a restaurant or do retail ferments and pickles,” starts Jeremy. “It worked out that we got a little bit of both,” finishes Michelle. The tendency to complete each other’s sentences is an endearing quality of the couple, who met while studying at the Culinary Institute of America (CIA). After graduation, they moved to New York City and gained experience at some of the city’s most renowned restaurants— Jeremy at Nobu 57 and Per Se, and Michelle at Union Square Café and Robert De Niro’s Tribeca Grill. In 2008, they married and moved to Alexandria to work for Restaurant Eve’s group of restaurants. Within a year, Jeremy was promoted to chef de cuisine at the company’s

flagship restaurant, while Michelle worked in a variety of management roles. A few years later, a colleague purchased a historic building in downtown Annapolis and approached the Hoffmans about opening a restaurant, and Preserve was born. Tucked into a cozy storefront halfway up Main Street, Preserve is a bright, inviting space where guests are treated to innovative food and some of the best peoplewatching around. The contemporary American menu leans affectionately toward Jeremy’s Pennsylvania Dutch upbringing while incorporating his pickles and ferments into many of the dishes. For instance, pickled radish is served atop the spicy shrimp lettuce wraps, and kimchi (a spicy Korean cabbage dish) is served with the house-made gnocchi. The flavorful results have won over diners and critics alike. Open just two years, Preserve has been praised by some heavy-hitters in the regional dining scene: it was included in the Washington Post’s 2015 Fall Dining Guide, it won the Restaurant Association of Maryland’s 2016 Favorite New Restaurant award, and in 2016, Washingtonian gave the restaurant two nods, including it in its “Top 100” list and singling out the crispy kale salad as one of “the twenty-five best dishes we ate around DC” for the year. Preserve stands out in part due to the menu’s creativity. Hoffman uses pickled and fermented ingredients strategically, adding brightness and complexity to dishes. The pepper jelly that dots the restaurant’s crispy | 65

kale salad, for example, is a sweet contrast to the tartness of the cumin-yogurt dressing and the crunch of the flash-fried kale. The result is addictive, delicious, and nothing like any salad—kale or otherwise—that you may have tried before. “We’ve been together 12 years, and I’m still impressed by the dishes he creates,” says Michelle, who describes herself as Jeremy’s number one volunteer when it comes to sampling new creations. While the name Preserve nods to the focus

66 | Spring 2017

of the menu, it also speaks to the couple’s belief in supporting the community around them. Most of the food is locally sourced, including the produce and meats, to support family farms and the local economy while providing fresher, more nutritious ingredients. “It’s about supporting your entire city and the entire ecosystem around your city,” Jeremy says. He uses the changing availability of produce as a jumping-off point, tweaking and modifying the menu as ingredients come in


and out of season. They look for ways to support other local businesses whenever they can, from using locally made pottery in the restaurant to serving a rotating array of Maryland-brewed beers. “Small business supporting small business. That’s sort of what it’s all about,” says Michelle. A CIA graduate in her own right and a trained sommelier, Michelle runs Preserve’s beverage program, carefully selecting the wines and creating the cocktail menu. “I always had a passion for the beverage side of things, wine specifically. It grew into craft cocktails as I moved through my career,” she says. She uses seasonal flavors and ingredients, designed to complement the food menu. Her winter vodka cocktail, with its sparkling wine and cranberry-rosemary syrup, is a light and refreshing counterpoint to the roasted and stewed items on the food menu during the colder months. Her creations aren’t just tasty, they’re attractive: photographs of Michelle’s cocktails, served in elegant glassware with colorful garnishes, appear frequently on social media. Since opening Preserve, the Hoffmans launched a retail line of fermented foods called Cabbage Alley, named after a nearby alley on Main Street. They began with three products: kimchi, curtido, a Salvadoran relish, and, of course, sauerkraut. The ferments are sold at Preserve and a handful of other outlets, including Rutabaga Juicery in West Annapolis. Pickling and fermenting for many years now, Jeremy remains as enthusiastic as ever about preserved foods. “Hot sauces, pickles, and ferments are delicious, so how could you not be excited about them!” he says. We’ll see what the Hoffmans dream up next. █ | 67

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70 | Spring 2017

Robin’s daily early morning practice. “Proximity to water and nature is very important to me.”

Embodied Awareness by LEAH WEISS photography by AMY RAAB


magine finding out that you must relearn how to move— and you’re a dancer. That happened to Robin Gilmore. Schooled in ballet, Gilmore was passionately pursuing a modern dance career at American University in Washington, DC, practicing for hours every day. Then she started getting injured. Her back would go into such intense spasms that she could not move. Gilmore thought that if she only tried harder, the problem would go away. But the injury kept recurring. A professor told her that if she didn’t stop what she was doing and study the Alexander Technique, she wasn’t going to make it. What followed was life changing. “I was basically feeling like I was going to fall over in

class because my old habits were to try so hard,” she says. “In Alexander Technique, it’s about doing less, and so I really felt like I was starting over. But I knew that this mattered.” After six months of weekly lessons, Gilmore’s back issues began to resolve, and her dancing took off. “I was soaring. I was doing things I’d never been able to do, with less effort. That’s when I was hooked.” Alexander Technique is a method of self-learning used by many performers to release muscular tension, move with ease, and heal and prevent injury. Sting, Paul McCartney, Yehudi Menuhin, Julie Andrews, and Ben Kingsley are among the luminaries who have studied it. College performing arts programs | 71

“ The way to change falls on the self, and changing— on a very subtle yet fundamental way—how you are walking through the world. It’s really about embodied awareness.” from The Juilliard School to the University of Maryland routinely offer Alexander Technique classes to students. In the late 1800s, Frederick Matthias Alexander, a Tasmanian actor living in London and performing Shakespeare, started losing his voice during performance. Over years of selfobservation and exploration, he realized that his hoarseness came from a habit of tension and pushing. Importantly, he viewed the problem and its solution as not isolated to the neck and head area but involving the full body, including the mind. “As soon as he would think about speaking,” explains Gilmore, “his habit had already kicked in, before he even uttered a word.” Simply put, our thinking enervates our moment. Alexander Technique is paying attention with all of the senses, including the kinesthetic (movement) sense. “It’s a way to learn about yourself in activity and where you might be working against yourself, in some cases actually harming yourself, through habitual misuse and miscoordination,” says Gilmore.

72 | Spring 2017

She works with students (who are not considered clients— they are learning) through a combination of gentle touch, movement, and discussion. “The way to change falls on the self, and changing—on a very subtle yet fundamental way—how you are walking through the world. It’s really about embodied awareness.” Gilmore knew early on that she wanted to teach the Alexander Technique. While living in Amsterdam after college, she was directed to a teacher-training program in Philadelphia. Alexander Technique International’s rigorous credentialing process, requiring a minimum of three years of study before starting to teach, did not faze her. She became certified in 1986, studying with several teachers who had learned directly from Mr. Alexander. After earning a Master of Fine Arts degree in dance and choreography from Temple University, Gilmore divided her time between the United States and Japan and established an Alexander Technique teacher-training program in Kyoto. In 2001, Gilmore moved to Annapolis and opened Chesapeake Bay Alexander Studies, offering private lessons, introductory and customdesigned classes, and residential workshops across the eastern United States and beyond. She created and directs a teachertraining program in Greensboro,

Susan Dapkunas, violist with the Annapolis Symphony Orchestra, has studied Alexander Technique intensively with Robin Gilmore to relieve chronic pain from playing her instrument.

North Carolina, and gives workshops such as “Save Your Spine” in Annapolis a few times every year. In early April, she’ll teach “Freedom to Breathe,” an exploration of the structures and movement of breath, at Ridgely Retreat. She also employs “Body Mapping,” a technique she learned from musician and mentor Bill Conable, in her work. “You can know all the anatomy in the world, but when it comes to your own body, you have these misconceptions,” she says, giving the example of ballet dancers who appear

two-dimensional: “When you’re staring at yourself in the mirror in class, that becomes a bad habit.” Body maps can come from a number of places, but they are unconscious. “When you bring it to the level of consciousness and figure out the reality, you can correct the body map.” Gilmore authored What Every Dancer Needs to Know About the Body (GIA Publications, Inc., 2005), a workbook of body mapping and the Alexander Technique. No longer dancing professionally, Gilmore remains active in the Washington, DC, dance community. She

often performs at Alexander Technique conferences and international congresses, collaborating with vocalists and instrumentalists. “I’m just a mover,” she grins. Gilmore enjoys the diversity of her students, many of whom

are performing artists and equestrians. “I love to do barn calls after studio work,” she laughs. “Whatever is happening in the rider’s coordination is transmitted to the horse,” she elucidates, “so if a rider is tense and fearful, it’s conveyed to

the horse.” With the current technology revolution changing how we use our bodies—sitting for much of the day with electronic devices, prone to “text neck” and trigger finger— Gilmore expects more nonperformers to walk through her door. A memorable teaching moment transpired in Japan. While Gilmore was doing some hands-on work, her student looked up and down and then started crying. After a moment, the student spoke, and the translator translated, “I meet myself for the first time.” Gilmore immediately, gratefully, understood; she had assisted in changing someone’s sense of self. █


Omar A. Said, a local actor who studied Alexander Technique at UMBC as part of his theatre training, receives some help from Gilmore. Said attributes the popularity of Frederick Alexander’s studies in performance art communities to the fact that Alexander was an actor and a critic of the theater. “Learning and practicing AT is important, whether you’re an actor or a 9-to-5 computer programmer. Awareness of our own bodies and our habits leads to discovering new habits of efficiency and ease, regaining our natural poise.” | 73


Jim Hollan, owner of The Dove, and waitress Terry Griest pose for a photo at the Dove in 1976. Photo courtesy of Jim Hollan

74 | Spring 2017

Decolonizing the Arts with The Dove by LEIGH GLENN


he real gem . . . is Jim Hollan’s Dove . . . Just beer and soda pop, but they really pack them in. There are chess tables in the corner for devotees, and the customers provide their own entertainment with guitars, banjoes, flutes, f iddles—you name it. –Dick Haefner, from a 1976 Annapolis & Trust Co. guidebook to Annapolis


oday, Jim Hollan lives on an inlet off the Magothy River, where he kayaks with the grandkids and paints. But when he was just 28, he launched The Dove in the basement of 33 West Street, where Rams Head Tavern operates today. Hollan, a first-generation Irishman, was born in New York and grew up in Spanish Harlem before moving to Washington, DC, for college and graduate school.

He became acquainted with Annapolis through a professor, whose septic system in St. Margaret’s he helped build. It was 1962, and they would come into town for supplies. “I was waiting for Jimmy Stewart to run down the street,” says Hollan, of the vibe. “People would stop and say, ‘Hello! Are you visiting?’” In 1968, he moved to 239 Prince George Street and taught at The Key School. He played guitar, autoharp, and mandolin in Jumpers Hole

String Band with guitarist Neil Harpe, who taught him blues. Hollan got to know many business owners who had lived there in the 1940s and ’50s. They told him how people came to Annapolis on Saturdays to shop before going to supper. The shops closed around 6 p.m. and reopened around 7:30 p.m., when people returned to purchase what they needed. But drastic, vibrancydimming change had come to Annapolis in the 1960s. | 75

Downtown businesses suffered after the creation of Parole Plaza, with all its parking. Urban renewal efforts decimated the area around Northwest, Washington, Clay, Calvert, and West Streets, a neighborhood of primarily AfricanAmerican residents who had been economically prosperous and wealthy in its sense of community. The local Safeway, at Calvert and West, was swept away, leaving garages and parking lots. “At five o’clock, it would take you an hour and a half to walk around City Dock, because every other person was someone you knew,” says Hollan of the days before Parole was developed. But by the late ’60s, he says, “You could roll a bowling ball down Main Street after six at night and hit nothing.” To earn extra money, Hollan played guitar at Middleton Tavern, taking requests from patrons. He admits that he was not a seasoned musician or performer, but because he made more in tips than teaching, he left The Key School to perform. Hollan also felt that, while Annapolis had an artistic side, it lacked an arts place. Art was done “in living rooms,” out of the public eye. He wanted a place where people could meet—to make music, play chess, read poems, paint, or draw. He saw potential in a site on West Street. At the time, 33 West Street was an old, run-down building owned by Charlie Marsteller, whose vision, says Hollan, was to have craftspeople downstairs—in a space Marsteller called The Ark—and to rent rooms upstairs. Back then, Reverend Joe Holland, an Annapolis native who lost a leg in World War II, ran a shoe shine parlor in the building’s basement after being displaced 76 | Spring 2017

when the Safeway was torn down. Lawyers and judges dropped off their shoes on the way to the courthouse. Holland agreed to move his shoe shine space upstairs, except he needed to be there when people dropped their shoes off. “I said they can drop their shoes at the bar,” says Hollan. With that agreement in place, along with the lease—Marsteller insisted it be named The Dove, a

But by the late ’60s, he says, “ You could roll a bowling ball down Main Street after six at night and hit nothing.” counterpart to The Ark, after the two ships that landed in what would become Maryland—Hollan bought school desks from the St. Vincent de Paul Society in Baltimore and pews from a local church, set up some chess sets, arrayed stringed instruments along the walls and a pump organ near the single window up front, got a second-hand cooler from distributor Sam Katcef and developed an unheard-of menu of 30 to 40 bottled beers, and opened for business. It was 1973, and The Dove took off. The place drew all kinds of people, including legislators, jazz pianists Monty Alexander and Earl “Fatha” Hines (who played on the pump organ), multi-instrumental

musician Dick Seabrook, and Sam Katcef ’s son, flautist Neal Katcef. Those who gathered could hear anything from soft rock and country to folk and choral music. One night, the place was packed, people were playing old-time Appalachian music, and some members of the National Symphony Orchestra came with their instruments and joined in. “Boat people,” those who moved boats up and down the East Coast, often visited. The late Don Cook, an esteemed visual artist, would stop by to sketch. Thursday nights were for the poets, and, in time, The Dove published a collection of their poems called The Thursday Book. Anyone, poet or musician, shy or outgoing, could try out their music or their lines on those in attendance and, in that way, create community. By 1976, Hollan leased a larger space for The Dove at 26 West Street, which previously housed the Royal Restaurant, run by Savvas Pantelides, grandfather of Annapolis Mayor Mike Pantelides. Friends pitched in and revamped the space. The Dove carried on until the next year, when a fire destroyed it. The Dove at 33 West Street was like a dandelion forcing its way up through the cracks of a town undergoing big changes. Many of its seeds have spread far and wide, through music, poetry, and visual arts. Some seeds landed nearby, such as guitar maker Paul Reed Smith, who lived upstairs and whose band, Jude, sometimes played at The Dove. Other seeds have lain dormant and are now beginning to sprout— something that gladdens Hollan. “It feels like time repeating itself on West Street,” he says, “and I tip my hat to this great group of people out there doing it.” █


TOP: Owner of The Dove in the mid ’ 70s, Jim Hollan, among the debris after a fire damaged the cafe. Photo courtesy of Jim Hollan. ABOVE: Old photos and news articles about The Dove. Photo by Alison Harbaugh. LEFT: 2.6.17: Jim Hollan, at his Arnold home office. Photo by Alison Harbaugh. | 77



78 | Spring 2017


Photos Left: Annapolis Colonial Players: The Secret Garden


f the walls at 108 East Street in Annapolis could talk, there’s many a tale they could boom out. The ones about getting off book just in time. Ones about people stepping up when others had to back out. About equipment that failed and actors continuing on as if nothing happened. About missed cues and about perfectly nailed soliloquies. About places in plays that drew belly laughs and those that didn’t—and the actors who were sometimes befuddled or bemused by both. There are also many tales about the actors who met, fell

and tears, and occasionally some consternation at the choice of play. Before 108 East Street served as The Colonial Players’ theatrein-the-round, it was a car repair shop. The theater opened in 1949, and worked out of the Community Service Building on Compromise Street until 1955, when the company bought the East Street building. What has not changed is its mission: staging live performances, educating theatregoers and volunteers alike, and fostering a love for the dramatic arts.

in love, and remain happily wedded; of young leads in musicals displaying maturity beyond their years; the oldtimer who still directs set production and swings a hammer to help out; and the energetic operations director and his legion of assistants who renovated the lighting and sound. For more than 67 years, The Colonial Players have read and selected plays, held auditions, sewn costumes, molded dramatic arcs, and pushed actors to dig deeper. The result? Countless laughs

There’s only one requirement: to be interested—whether as a member of the audience, cast or crew—preferably passionately. By All—For All The theatre draws all kinds of people, from those who’ve experienced tragedy and found solace in acting, to those like Ruben Vellekoop, who began acting after college. In 2015, Vellekoop played Looney Tunes/Narrator in Christopher Durang’s Why Torture is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them. He made his directing debut recently with Anthony Giardina’s

WHISPERERS Annapolis Colonial Players: The Liar | 79

That same magic, eliciting Remembered in the 1965–66 The City of Conversation, which feelings from joy to anger, season. With a minimalist set—a became even more relevant reverberated through The Colonial single chaise—Evans invites on November 9, 2016, when Players’ walls with plays like The the audience to imagine the Americans awoke to their fullLiar, A Few Good Men, Rabbit despair of a cholera outbreak— scale divisions in the aftermath Hole, and Going to St. Ives. of the Presidential election. Plays such as these underscore the A Bold Approach freedom that Colonial A certain fearlessness Players enjoys. The City in play selection also is not about superficial supports the magic. political divisions but Every season, theatre those that go to the lovers enjoy an eclectic core of one family’s repertoire—culled to dynamics—and which six or seven plays from Vellekoop and his hundreds read—including actors explore. comedies, dramas, a Many Colonial musical, and an “arc” Players veterans play, typically something have said the theatre offbeat and more is one big, often challenging for audiences, happy, sometimes such as Durang’s Torture. dysfunctional family— “This might not be perhaps like Americans something that you were at their best. Most thinking you’d want to have full-time jobs. see,” says board president All are volunteers, Shirley Panek. “But it’s which means that, like our job to educate and Vellekoop, they are help people experience motivated by their love new theatre.” of the craft. When they Every holiday season, all come together, it’s Colonial Players stages as if each is a strand something families can Annapolis Colonial Players: The Secret Garden of fiber—experienced enjoy, alternating between and inexperienced— A Christmas Carol and symbolized by the passing of a red weaving their work another play or musical that handkerchief among the dancers, together. When that happens, it’s helps expose children to theatre, magical. Everything is in sync, and from the infected to the soonwith opportunities to perform or to-be infected. The singing, the the theatre-in-the-round setting be part of the audience. choreography, the costumes, and strengthens the actor-audience Every other summer, Colonial the lighting, including projected intimacy. Players hosts a one-act festival images that recall Hans Christian That magic was palpable in The and runs a Promising Playwright Andersen’s cut-paper art, envelop Secret Garden, a musical directed Contest (this year, they coincide). the audience in the characters’ last year by Lois Evans, who still Occasionally, there’s a special moods and machinations, and in volunteers with The Colonial project—a 24-hour play or a the ultimate triumph of kindness. Players since first directing Time weeklong musical. The company

80 | Spring 2017

ABOVE: Annapolis Colonial Players stage panorama.

“... it’s our job to educate and help people experience new theatre.”

also offers talk-backs with actors and directors, as well as internships and scholarships. For those who love theatre but have no interest in being on stage, volunteer opportunities abound. And those who’ve always been interested in acting but have never taken the leap can audition and perhaps score a chance to walk the boards.

“We are happy to have anyone be a part of The Colonial Players family, whether they only have a little time to give or if they want to spend all of their free time there, like a lot of us do,” says Panek. “Everything we do, we are truly passionate about. We want to share that with the community, and bring new people in, and share that with them.” █


LEFT: Annapolis Colonial Players: A Few Good Men Left to Right, Steve Mangum (Cpl Brewster), Andrew Seabrook (Sgt Thom), Kyle Eshom (Cpl Hammaker), Isaac J Everett (Cpl Dunn). | 81


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ST PATRICK'S DAY PARADE .......................................................... March 5 MARYLAND DAY WEEKEND .................................................. March 24-26 ANNAPOLIS FILM FESTIVAL ............................................ March 30-April 2 FIRST SUNDAY ARTS FESTIVALS ........................................... Starts May 7 MEMORIAL DAY PARADE ............................................................... May 29 DINNER UNDER THE STARS .................................................Starts May 31 Follow the Annapolis Arts District on Facebook to see even more West Street events. | 83

Up.St.Art Annapolis Spring 2017  

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