Up.St.ART Annapolis Winter 2021

ANNAPOLIS ARTS DISTRICT

David Hayes Sculptures photography by ALISON HARBAUGH

I

n partnership with the Annapolis Arts District and the Inner West Street Association, the David Hayes Art Foundation has brought The David Hayes Outdoor Sculpture Exhibition, a group of over a dozen abstract steel sculptures, to Annapolis.

Organizations that helped make this possible include Anne Arundel County Government, Anne Arundel County Department of Parks and Recreation, Anne Arundel County Public Library, City of Annapolis’ Art in Public Places Commission, Housing Authority of the City of Annapolis, Maryland Cultural and Conference Center (MC3), and Visit Annapolis. This yearlong installation is accompanied by education and programming around sculptural art and color theory led by ArtFarm Studios in collaboration with local artists. Special thanks go to Annapolis Arts District Board Member Joe Sette for curating this exhibit.

Exhibit Locations: • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Banneker-Douglass Museum Bates Middle School Morris H. Blum Senior Apartments Michael E. Busch Library Eastport Democratic Club Eastport Library Graduate Hotel Lemongrass MC3 Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts People’s Park Stanton Community Center St. John’s College

For more information, visit www.annapolisartsdistrict.org/david-hayes.

2 | Winter 2021

1 1. Screen Sculpture #82 (1996). Unpainted welded steel. At Annapolis Library.

2. Leaf Figure (1975). Painted, welded steel. Restored by Robert Donston. At Maryland Hall. Photographed with David Hayes (the artist's son).

2

3&5. Sentinel #7 (2009).

Painted, welded steel. At Banneker-Douglass Museum (BDM). Photographed with artist's son, David Hayes, and BDM's Chanel Compton.

3 4. Elephant Head (1971).

Painted, welded steel.

At Bates Middle School.

Photographed with students from the PVA program at Bates repainting the sculpture.

5

6. Group (2003). Painted, welded steel. At Lemongrass.

7. Yellow Octopus (1975).

Painted, welded steel. Restored

by Robert Donston. At People’s Park on Calvert St.

4

6 7

upstart-annapolis.com | 3

CONTENTS 6 | Winter 2021

Volume 8

|

Issue 1

CANVAS

14

KOs, Fast Lanes, & Vertical Lines • JACK FRAZIER

By Desiree Smith-Daughety

WAVES

24

Teaching Young Rockers • BEN GRANT

By Thomas Ferraro

SNAP

32

Golden Hour

• JARVIN HERNANDEZ

By Dylan Roche

EMOTE

40

Playing the Music of Our Lives • NECI

By Christine Fillat

CAUSE

56

Gift by Jack Frazier. Oil painting.

• THEATER TECHS

By Dylan Roche

WAVES

48

COVER

Behind the Scenes

BadA** Bird Woman • DONNA L. COLE

By Andrea Stuart

HOOD

66

Everybody Needs a Tribe • LANGTON GREEN

By Brenda Wintrode

TREK

74

Dancing with Tammy Wynette

• FAROE ISLANDS TRAVELOGUE

By Leah Weiss

Editor’s Inkwell

T

wenty months of revelation. Eighty-eight weeks of rebuilding. Six hundred twentyone days of self-reflection. Fourteen thousand nine hundred thirteen hours of curiosity.

Eight hundred ninety-four thousand seven hundred ninety-one minutes of uncertainty. Fiftythree million six hundred eighty-seven thousand four hundred sixty seconds of intense feeling.

As we turn to the next chapter of Up.St.ART Annapolis, it feels as if the words are flooding off the pages into a hungry void. Having lain in stasis for so long, the stories—like us, in many ways—are finding footing in a different world.

There is excitement between the syllables, nuance in each punctuation mark. There is narrative beyond the borders of each image. The pages feel gravitationally heavier, as though they are craving their subjects in a feral way.

So, we abide.

Working on the stories in this issue, it was clear that there was a tender vulnerability coursing through many of us still, and it warranted gingerly attention. Thus, the stories are composites of past, present, and future. That hasn’t changed.

But a headiness lies in the subtext, in the transformation that many of us have endured latterly. That said . . . . . . there’s magic in rebirth!

Welcome back to Up.St.ART. We’re grateful to share this space and community with you.

Errata:

I

n our winter 2019 issue, we featured a story about the Jello Boys. We have made some corrections and provided more information and pictures online, at upstart-annapolis.com.

We hope you will check that out to learn more about the band and one of its key members, Greg McKain.

upstart-annapolis.com | 7

Publisher & Creative Director Jimi Davies jimihaha@gmail.com Editorial Director Andrea Stuart upstarteditor@gmail.com Copy Editor Leah Weiss Associate Editors Michele Callaghan Jenny Igoe MacDuff Perkins

Art Director Cory Deere cdeere@gmail.com Contributing Photographers Gregg Patrick Boersma Karen Davies Alison Harbaugh Mary Ella Jourdak Marie Machin Joshua McKerrow Advertising Jimi Davies jimihaha@gmail.com

Contributing Editors Thomas Ferarro Christine Fillat Dylan Roche Desiree Smith-Daughety Leah Weiss Brenda Wintrode

facebook.com/UpstartAnnapolis twitter.com/upstartnaptown instagram.com/UpstartAnnapolis

SUBMISSIONS: For article submissions, email proposal to upstarteditor@gmail.com. Up.St.Art Annapolis Magazine is published quarterly. Subscription rate: $40, payable in advance. Single copies $10. Back issues, if available, $15 (includes shipping and handling). For subscriptions and all other inquires, send an email to jimihaha@gmail.com or call 410-212-4242. Entire contents © 2021 by Up.St.Art Annapolis MagazineTM unless otherwise noted on specific articles. All rights reserved.

Reproduction in whole or part is strictly prohibited without Publisher permission.

10 | Winter 2021

Brenda Wintrode

Desiree Smith-Daughety

Christine Fillat

Dylan Roche

Thomas Ferraro

Leah Weiss

WRITERS PHOTOGRAPHERS

Karen Davies

Joshua McKerrow

Greg Patrick Boersma

Alison Harbaugh

Marie Machin

Mary Ella Jourdak

upstart-annapolis.com | 11

CANVAS

14 | Winter 2021

KOs, Fast Lanes, & Vertical Lines

by DESIREE SMITH-DAUGHETY photography by JOSHUA MCKERROW

J

ack Frazier stands in the Main St. Gallery wearing a gentle, welcoming smile. He’s recognizably comfortable in his own skin. His eyes twinkle, signaling that he takes life in stride, as he moves with a grace that belies his 94 years.

Frazier can trace his personal history from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back again, though his art career formed a tighter route concentrated in the Eastern United States. His path began in Birmingham, Alabama, his birthplace. When he was nine In his studio, Painter Jack Frazier demonstrates how he uses a tool to create his work.

upstart-annapolis.com | 15

Frazier moved in wideranging directions (both literally and f iguratively) that involved, among other things, time as a boxer, entering military service, and becoming a Porsche race car driver, before launching into art.

A painting by Jack Frazier of his late wife, Brenda, hangs on a wall in his home.

16 | Winter 2021

years old, he entered a soap sculpture competition held at the Alabama State Fairgrounds and won a blue ribbon. He doesn’t recall what the sculpture portrayed, but the piece sat in a glass display case at his school, where it remained for years and was still there when he left. The joy and pride of winning stuck with him.

But his interest in art didn’t fully take root until much later.

Frazier moved in wide-ranging directions (both literally and figuratively) that involved, among other things, time as a boxer, entering military service, and becoming a Porsche race car driver, before launching into art.

Frazier began boxing when he was around 12 years old. He boxed in Golden Gloves, an association devoted to amateur boxers, for about four years. “I was pretty successful at it,” he recalls. “I lost one match and found out my coach had bet on me. I felt bad about that!”

A work by painter Jack Frazier that hangs in his home.

upstart-annapolis.com | 17

When he was 17 years old, Frazier entered military service with the US Navy. He’d taken a Navy recruiter’s test and qualified for flight school. But he felt that there were people more qualified than he was to fly planes, so he didn’t apply for flight school and instead opted for gunnery school and radio school. With World War II raging, Frazier became a crew member on a torpedo bomber: a single engine airplane large enough to carry a huge torpedo, bombs, a pilot, a gunner, and a radioman. Frazier operated the radio and radar and set the torpedoes.

During his service, Frazier boxed onboard ship where a boxing team had formed and would challenge teams on other ships to matches called smokers.

“I don’t know why it was called that,” he says. “Maybe because everyone was puffing on cigarettes.” After he served on four ships, the war ended and Frazier’s squadron broke up.

His group was later approached to join a ship—the Curtis Bay—heading into the Pacific: Hawaii, Japan, and China. For Frazier, it was no more than an overseas voyage; having been trained in radio and radar, he didn’t have duties such as swabbing the deck or carrying food. He had plenty of time to get in shape between the ship’s stops at ports along the way.

Frazier was particularly struck

by Okinawa, Japan, a major battle site in the Pacific Theater.

“Got there right after the war was over, it was a wreck,” he says. “There were skulls laying out, everything was bombed and Jack Frazier holds one of his favorite pieces.

18 | Winter 2021

strafed—it was pretty bad. There were airplane parts all over the beaches.”

After being discharged from the military, his art career began in earnest, with formal education. He graduated from a three-year course at a time when Washington, DC, clanged with the sound of streetcars; that’s what Frazier rode, stepping off at a stop three blocks from what he recalls as the National Art School on 19th Street and Massachusetts Avenue.

“Afterward, I thought life would be fast cars, fast women, and wads of cash—but that didn’t work out!” says Frazier, laughing at his youthful exuberance and outlook.

But art didn’t bring him the anticipated wonders of his starryeyed youth. He realized that he had to get a different kind of job.

He landed at the Pentagon, working for the US Army chief of staff, flying everywhere across the United States and into Canada.

He remembers his years there with fondness, with myriad projects

Jack Frazier checks to see if a new painting is still wet.

upstart-annapolis.com | 19

A work by Jack Frazier.

20 | Winter 2021

shows to date. His first show was in Washington, Virginia, at the Packing Shed Gallery. Other shows took place in towns such as Easton and Annapolis.

For 20 years, Frazier lived in Annapolis. He then moved to Virginia, near the Blue Ridge Mountains, to a home with acreage. “We had flower beds, vegetable gardens—plenty of room,” he explains. He also had art shows in Warrenton, Virginia.

“I pull the paint vertically, rather than horizontally . . .”

He returned to Annapolis, where his two sons and their daughters now live. He’s able to see his four grandchildren regularly, as they are within walking distance of Main St. Gallery, where Frazier has displayed his work for the past five years. Margaret Lee, artist and owner of the gallery, has lent him a guiding hand in the business aspects of selling art.

Frazier’s current works, on display throughout the gallery, are abstracts, featuring strong lines that hint of objects or leave the visual just fluid enough for viewers to interpret what they will. Though the works are abstract, they exude form and structure; perhaps his former military and boxing training exert their influence in the oil paints he applies to the canvas.

He credits being heavily influenced

by the works of German painter Gerhard Richter, whom Frazier says is considered a top-selling living artist. Frazier was viewing the works of abstract painters online when he came across Richter, who has used a squeegee to paint. “I don’t use anything like that,” he says. “I use a huge palette knife on some paintings, and use a regular one on about 90 percent of my paintings. I use his technique in a small way.”

Unlike Richter’s expansive canvases, Frazier works on more compact sizes. “I pull the paint vertically, rather than horizontally, the way Richter had space to do,” he says, demonstrating with a hand-to-hand measurement to indicate roughly a half-foot’s width.

He works out of an in-home studio and shows his work consistently at Main St. Gallery.

Speaking highly of Lee, he credits her for giving him the idea to add some lighter pieces in terms of color values. One such work is displayed prominently in the gallery’s front window.

“As soon as he came in, he started selling almost immediately,” says Lee. “People just love his work—they see things in his work, shapes and forms. It elicits a curiosity in them that’s amazing. A wonderful addition to the gallery!”

Considering his 94 years on this earth, Frazier says, “I’ve always been active, looking for something interesting to do. I’m not as active now, so painting suits me just fine.

It’s not like boxing or racing, that’s for sure!” █

CANVAS

to work on that lasted about two weeks before the next one began.

During his time with the Chief of Staff, he made friends, and he made professional contacts with different companies making war goods, which later came in handy for his post-military service work.

In 1959, Frazier bought a red Porsche Speedster, inspired by his first visit to a racetrack with his lieutenant commander from the Navy, who had gone there to race.

“I got the bug when I went to the track. It looked like a lot of fun,” he says. After attending racing school and completing many races at different tracks, he qualified to become an instructor. Frazier taught at a racing school, which enabled him to drive a variety of cars. The school also held special events, such as one for children with health problems who were taken for a spin around the track in a race car. Frazier also served as president of the Washington, DC, Porsche Club—the first one in the country. He raced locally on and off for years, both for a Porsche car dealership and for himself, driving his own car. “I flushed a lot of money down the toilet, and it was fun,” he says of his racing years.

After shifting to selfemployment, doing analytical consulting work, Frazier obtained a contract with the British Oil Association—a contact from his Pentagon days—and worked on an as-needed basis. The work amounted to roughly four months per year, which gave Frazier time to focus on his artwork. He has enjoyed 20 years of steady painting, with over a dozen solo

upstart-annapolis.com | 21

Nancy Hammond Editions Brown Pelicans

Koi

Nancy Hammond Editions features mixed media original art, prints and custom designed gifts by Nancy Hamond.

Tropical Tango

192 West Street, Annapolis MD 21401 410-295-6612 • NancyHammondEditions.com

WAVES

24 | Winter 2021

TEACHING YOUNG

Rockers

by THOMAS FERRARO photography by GREGG PATRICK BOERSMA

B

en Grant performed with elite US Navy bands around much of the world, playing for, among others, US presidents, NATO allies, and parading midshipmen at the US Naval Academy. Tonight, he’s at the School of Rock Annapolis, teaching five teenagers to be a cohesive rock band.

“You sound good, but not great,” the retired Navy chief musician tells the drummer and bass guitarist after they play a few bars of the British pop song “5 Colours in Her Hair.”

“You need to be together,“ says Grant. “Do it again.”

They do it again and sound good.

But, as far as Grant is concerned, it’s still not great. “Together,” he demands. “Again.”

They play it over and over, until they are in sync. “Yes,” says Grant, and the young artists sigh relief.

Grant is a bona fide music man—demanding, nurturing, and

multitalented. He plays and teaches several instruments, including tuba, guitar, saxophone, clarinet, trombone, piano, and voice. In addition to teaching music, he also plays bass guitar and sings in his own jazz trio, and he subs in other bands as a bassist, singer, keyboard player, or sound engineer.

He’s been an instructor at the School of Rock Annapolis since retiring from the Navy in 2011, ending a 24-year military career that had him him performing in North America, South America, Africa, and the Caribbean. The school in Arnold is part of a network of hundreds of music academies worldwide. “It’s something that I wanted to do for years—teach kids and help them be better human beings,” says Grant, adding that a tough but caring high school band director had inspired him. “He made a huge difference in my life,“ he says.

upstart-annapolis.com | 25

Like that band director, Grant tries to keep it light. “I tell the kids to enjoy themselves. But when it’s time to work, it’s time to work. That’s my line in the sand. If they take it too far, I’ll bark at them. Then it’s quiet for a bit and forgotten.”

This night, Grant is working with the school’s house band, which performs at community events. Having gotten the rhythm section to play as one, he focuses on the lead guitarist and two singers. They sing, “Everybody wants to know her name.”

Unsatisfied, Grant tells one of the vocalists, “Convince me that you want to know her name. Sing from your gut.” She takes a deep breath and tries.

Grant shakes his head. “Again,” he says. She inhales and nails it.

“Yes,” he says.

When the COVID-19 pandemic shuttered so many activities in March 2020, Grant arranged remote lessons to keep band members practicing until they could resume in person. He stopped teaching the house band and focused on individual instruction.

Outside the school, Grant mentors another teen band, Fast as Lightning.

Katie Hall, age 15, a guitarist and singer, has performed with that band as well as with the school’s house band. “Mr. Ben is like a music dictionary,” she says. “You can ask him anything. He knows music theory, he knows about being on tour, he knows how to get our attention.”

Music has been a passion of Grant’s since growing up in Sanford, Florida.

As a toddler, he got up in the night

“ You try to get the kids to think beyond themselves . . .”

26 | Winter 2021

and banged on a piano, awakening his family. By fourth grade, he took piano lessons. He played the clarinet in sixth grade, and by seventh grade, he played the tuba, which he continued in his high school’s marching band; he also played trombone, saxophone, and bass guitar in the jazz band. “Music came naturally to me,” he says. “It’s a sense of sanity. It puts a big calm over everything. No matter how bad things might be, if I’m playing music, we’re good.”

Nevertheless, as a teenager, Grant preferred baseball. “I loved baseball.

But I had neither the talent nor height to progress very far,” says the five-foot, seven-inch former first baseman. From 2011 to 2014, he coached baseball at Severn High School. That, along with teaching music, helped him develop a philosophy for working with teenagers.

“You try to get the kids to think beyond themselves,” he says. “The mentality of a teenager is survival.

They are focused on what they are doing, and thinking about what others are thinking about them. You need to get them to listen to each other so they can line up with each other. To be great, you need to play together.”

In 1987, while Grant was a student at Florida’s Seminole State College, a musician at Sea World in nearby Orlando, and uncertain about his future, a former instructor—a retired Navy musician—suggested a career in the Navy. Grant successfully auditioned as a tuba player and enlisted. He initially played with the fleet band stationed in Norfolk, Virginia, and then with one in Orlando, Florida. In 1994, he became a member of the staff band at the US Naval Academy. Duties included playing at dress parades and ArmyNavy football games.

upstart-annapolis.com | 27

In 1999, Grant joined the Navy Band, a premier musican organization whose tasks include performing at presidential inaugurations, state dinners, and international events.

Stationed in Washington, DC, it has more than a dozen musical groups.

Grant played bass guitar with its then new eight-member ensemble, the Cruisers, which plays jazz, classic rock, pop, and rhythm and blues. He was its first musical director.

Grant’s jazz trio, Oreo, includes two old Navy buddies, guitarist Jim Cunningham and drummer John Parsons. For 20 years, they played during Sunday brunch at the Rams Head Tavern, alternating between the Annapolis and Savage Mill locations.

When the COVID-19 pandemic ended that gig, they got a new one, playing every other Sunday at the White Oak Tavern in Ellicott City.

“It’s not like one day I decided to be a musician,” says Grant. “I’ve always been attracted to music. I couldn’t help it.” █

For more information about Ben Grant, visit www.linkedin.com/in/ben-grant-57901a8 and usnavyband.blogspot.com/2011/01/.

28 | Winter 2021

WAVES upstart-annapolis.com | 29

SNAP

32 | Winter 2021

Golden

HOUR

by DYLAN ROCHE photography by JARVIN HERNANDEZ

I

n the photography studio of his upper-story apartment overlooking West Street, Jarvin Hernandez might be landlocked, but with prints of his work adorning the walls, he is always surrounded by scenes of water, boats, ducks, herons, piers, and pilings. “I try to portray the beauty of Annapolis, and I try to portray the beauty of the Chesapeake Bay,” says Hernandez of his photography.

While he might say that he tries, his admirers would say he succeeds. A selfdescribed hobbyist who takes photos simply for the love of it, Hernandez ventured into the business side of his artistic pursuit only after receiving so many requests from people interested in buying prints of his work. But he’s not in it for the money—and he never wants to be. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my work,” he explains. “I don’t want it to feel like it’s a business, because it would take the fun out of it. . . . I want to do it for the right reason: because I enjoy it.”

upstart-annapolis.com | 33

“ I taught him the basics, but this guy is a wizard. He loves to learn and learn more.”

34 | Winter 2021

Originally from El Salvador, Hernandez first began dabbling in photography about six years ago, after volunteering to take pictures during worship services at his church, Iglesia Hispana Emmanuel. His friend Tony Zapata, the church’s sole photographer at the time, took notice of Hernandez’s talent from the start. “He was a young man who came to our church with a lot of dreams,” says Zapata. “I taught him the basics, but this guy is a wizard. He loves to learn and learn more.”

Very quickly, Hernandez gained the skills he needed to work a camera and has grown, as Zapata puts it, to be amazing. What he can’t discover through selfexploration and experimentation, Hernandez learns from YouTube tutorials. It helps that he has a natural eye and inclination. “I learn a little bit from everybody and try to create my own style,” he says.

As he became more passionate about photography, Hernandez established a daily ritual. Every

morning, just before dawn, he slips out from his apartment with his Nikon D750 in hand to capture the sun coming up over the Chesapeake Bay or the Severn River. “It’s something I enjoy doing and don’t do for somebody else,” he says. “I sit there, take pictures, enjoy the sunrise. It’s a relaxing time.”

He’ll often undertake the routine twice a day, in the morning and in the evening after work as the sun is setting. His favorite places to visit for sunrise are Sandy

Point State Park or the downtown Annapolis harbor. Jonas Green Park is his choice sunset location. He seeks to capture what he refers to as the “golden hour,” when the sky is streaked with reddish orange tones, casting golden streaks across the water and around the clouds.

“I like to see the different colors,” he says, adding that pictures of vivid sunrises and sunsets, particularly on overcast mornings with good clouds to catch the warm colors, rarely need editing to enhance them. “You

can just leave it the way it is—I try to keep everything the way my eye sees it through the camera,” he explains. “Sometimes, you take a picture, and it doesn’t look anywhere near what you see. But some pictures, you don’t have to do anything. It already makes you go, ‘Wow!’” Though he makes it sound easy, capturing the scene just as he perceives it takes patience and dedication. Sometimes Hernandez takes as many as 500 pictures in

upstart-annapolis.com | 35

“ He wants to give you a f inal product that tells you a story.

His emotions come through to you through his artwork.” a morning shooting session and chooses only one or two that he likes. He explains that, if it requires any digital editing, it’s usually just to bring more color out of it. He will then share his images of the day on social media, either through his Facebook or Instagram pages. “He has a passion for perfection,” says Zapata. “He wants to give you a final product that tells you a story. His emotions come through to you through his artwork.”

A combination of passion and drive makes Hernandez such a natural when it comes to capturing images, according to his longtime friend Darwin Regalado, who has known Hernandez since the two met in youth group at church. Regalado has watched Hernandez grow in his skills as a photographer, making investments of time, energy, and money to ensure that he is the best he can be in his craft. “He became very passionate about what he was learning,” recalls Regalado.

“He’s constantly upgrading his equipment, so he always provides the best quality. His work just keeps getting better and better.

36 | Winter 2021

go take a picture of a sunset or a sunrise, I have freedom to just say, ‘Okay, I’m going to take as many pictures as I can and put them on the web, and if somebody buys it, good.’ But when I go out, I’m not thinking about what photos are going to make me money.”

He likes to contribute to the community with his talent when he can, either by taking photos or recording videos for nonprofit organizations such as the Night to Shine Foundation or the March for Our Lives.

As he grows as a photographer, Hernandez has clear goals, particularly for the coming year.

He wants to publish a coffee table book featuring all of his best work

around Annapolis, and he hopes to have his pictures displayed in local restaurants around town. He also would like to make his website more user friendly so that his fans can easily peruse images and order prints.

Wherever his artistic journey takes him from here, Hernandez is already living the dream. “I asked him a question, once, about where he saw himself five years in the future,” says Zapata. “One of his biggest dreams is to be what he is right now.” █

SNAP

I love everything he puts out, but the sunrises are my favorite.

There’s just a certain detail and quality he adds to every picture.”

As more people took notice of Hernandez’s work, he heard requests to buy prints. He wanted to make them available, so he started researching reasonable prices and setting up a website.

He has also found professional opportunities as a videographer, mostly for weddings, which can be stressful—thus making him enjoy the simple escape of photographing sunrises all the more so. “When I go to a wedding, I know they’re going to pay me for my work, and I want them to like it,” he says. “But when I

To see Jarvin Hernandez’s photographs, visit the Jarvin Hernandez Facebook page or @jarvinphotography on Instagram.

upstart-annapolis.com | 37

upstart-annapolis.com | 39

EMOTE

40 | Winter 2021

Behind the Scenes

by DYLAN ROCHE photography by ALISON HARBAUGH

T

he first time Winship Wheatley ever tuned and operated a sound system in his role as head audio engineer at Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts, he received unsolicited praise from an audience member “A gentleman came up to the sound booth at intermission and was ecstatic, exclaiming, ‘The sonic landscape—congratulations!’” recalls Wheatley. That has stuck with him ever since.

The patron’s statement regarding the range and layers of sound in the performance venue made Wheatley realize how important tech is to the concertgoing or theatergoing

experience. “He was right,” says Wheatley. “It blew me away, and the band, too. I have high standards now because of that moment, but it’s a good thing.”

A contractor with Maryland Hall, Wheatley is one of hundreds of professionals and volunteers who work behind the scenes to make those onstage look and sound their best. Over the years, he’s worked with music artists such as rock guitarist Paul Gilbert and luthier Paul Reed Smith. He’s had the opportunity to master the skill of providing world-class sound and to witness how it impresses even some of the performers. “Bands

A view of the stage at Maryland Hall between a teardown after an Annapolis Opera performance and a setup for an upcoming Annapolis Symphony performance.

upstart-annapolis.com | 41

spaces—either the main theater or the smaller Bowen Theater downstairs. “I don’t oversee the positions backstage, as my sphere of influence stops typically at the proscenium window of the stage [the area in front of the curtain], but I do coordinate with all of the backstage staff,” he says, listing such roles as stage manager, tour managers, technicians, and stagehands.

“Maryland Hall has always utilized volunteers for important key roles during performing arts and visual arts.”

For a performing arts event, volunteers are needed to serve as ushers and bartenders; occasionally, a select few serve in niche positions, such as stagehands.

Communication is the biggest key, according to Kelbaugh.

That’s because nearly every company that takes to the stage at Maryland Hall operates a little bit differently and has different needs. Maryland Hall works with four resident companies—the Ballet Theatre of Maryland, the Annapolis Symphony Orchestra, the Annapolis Opera, and Live Arts Maryland—as well as various touring groups and companies that rent the theater.

Annapolis Opera, for example, brings its own scenery and props, whereas another company might need assistance building set pieces.

The Annapolis Film Festival requires assistance with projection and audio whenever it screens a

The tech process starts even before the production company has access to the venue.

During a recent performance by the Annapolis Opera, supertitles operator Henrique Carvalho follows along with the script as he projects the translated lyrics or dialogue above the stage in English, which makes it easier for the audience to follow along during the opera.

Reilly Kelbaugh, front of house and volunteer manager with Maryland Hall, checks to make sure attendees of a recent Annapolis Opera performance are vaccinated before ushering them into the auditorium.

42 | Winter 2021

that play through systems that I tune, they’re typically blown away and, in many cases, never have the opportunity to play on a stage that has that kind of control,” he says.

This is part of the professionalism at Maryland Hall, which provides a venue where Annapolitans can enjoy performances from both local and national artists. Reilly Kelbaugh, the nonprofit’s front of house and volunteer manager, works every show and serves as a liaison between Maryland Hall techs and any company that uses one of the venue’s two performance

movie in the main theater, but the Annapolis Symphony Orchestra won’t need much auditory assistance because the sound it generates acoustically is sufficient to reach even those in the back row.

“Generally, all sound and lights are provided by Maryland Hall, except when there are specifics in a backline or groups that bring their own technicians that design, set up, run, and facilitate performances,” explains Kelbaugh.

“At that point, Maryland Hall technicians act as liaisons between me and that specific company.”

The tech process starts even before a production company has access to the venue. Wheatley says he provides a brief overview of what Maryland Hall can accommodate. “We then get an input list and stage plot from the band, which helps us prepare,

so we don’t waste time with routing all the microphone and instrument channels,” he says. “It can get pretty chaotic if you let it.”

Load-in will usually take the full day before a performance, and striking a production after its run will usually take just as long.

Some performers bring their own equipment, while others rely on what Maryland Hall provides.

“Some need it more, and some don’t need it at all,” says Wheatley.

“Most of the Rams Head shows at Maryland Hall I don’t even need to be there for.” As a musician with his own band, he goes through the same process when he visits a venue. “With my band, we sometimes bring an entire sound system to the venue. More often, we tie into their system.”

But in some situations, a company needs to call on the experts at Maryland Hall to

Assistant stage manager Steve Mangum waits just off stage before a performance by the Annapolis Opera at Maryland Hall.

Maryland Hall volunteer ushers hand out programs and show people to their seats during a performance by the Annapolis Opera.

upstart-annapolis.com | 43

do what they do best. This is often because the company needs a very specific type of tech for their program or event.

“This is a regular occurrence, when a production company requires specialized skills, like a projectionist for Annapolis Film Festival or a laser operator who has the experience working with laser light performances,” says Wheatley. “The one that comes back to me is the amazing work done at the Pink Floyd Laser show that we had, a while back.

Orientation of those machines takes specific operational knowledge, as the lasers are absolutely powerful enough to cause serious damage to one’s eyes.”

And even though they aren’t the ones onstage that the audience is watching the whole time, these behind-the-scenes artists take joy in knowing that their work is an integral part of the production process. “It’s my passion,” Wheatley says of sound engineering. “It’s always been my passion to have my band sound better and better. I always had band practice at my house, so . . . I always had time to learn about it and tweak it. Eventually, I learned more about some of the elementary ways of tuning sound systems. When I came to Maryland Hall, I said, ‘If you give me three months to work it all out, I’ll know how to do this in a way that most people don’t know how to do it.’”

David Clark, Jr., part of the Maryland Hall tech team, helps to set up walls onstage before an Annapolis Symphony performance.

44 | Winter 2021

Ryan Walsh, a member of the Maryland Hall tech crew, helps to set up for a performance by the Annapolis Symphony. A red Vespa, a prop from the previous weekend's performance by the Annapolis Opera, sits offstage.

The tech crew also has the chance to interact with a wide variety of famous and more obscure performers who come to them. “Meeting artists is definitely a cool aspect of any tech or behind-the-scenes job, whether they are classical or popular performing artists,” says Kelbaugh. “Another great feeling, and associated with many memories, is providing arts experiences for the next generation. Let us admit that we all enjoy a good show— nothing wrong with a night out at a theater to see your favorite touring group or subscribing to see your favorite resident company perform.” █

EMOTE

“Meeting artists is def initely a cool aspect of any tech or behind-thescenes job. . .”

To learn more about Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts, visit www.marylandhall.org.

upstart-annapolis.com | 45

WAVES

48 | Winter 2021

PLAYING THE

MUSIC OF OUR

Lives N

by CHRISTINE FILLAT photography by MARIE MACHIN

eci’s deep, sensuous voice has been in our heads for many years, thanks to her late-night radio shows on WHFS and other stations.

Nowadays, Neci (last name withheld by request) does fillin radio shows for Audacy—a group of Baltimore-based radio stations—and spins her mixes for Pilates students and bodywork clients. Her story is about tenacity, perseverance, and a deep love of music.

Neci’s personality is as bubbly as the kale spritzer she’s having at True Food Kitchen. She compliments someone’s wedge sandals,

a server’s hair color, and another one’s brows. Always tuned into the music, she pauses in the conversation to Shazam a song playing over the sound system.

Her beautifully manicured crimson nails are very long and curved, so she uses a stylus to tap information onto her phone. The song is “Crumbler,” by Jungle. “I do this a lot,” she says. “If I hear a song I don’t know, I gotta have that song. It’s really cool.”

She has been acutely aware of music since she was a little girl listening to her father’s records. “Mashed Potato Time” was a top 10 radio

upstart-annapolis.com | 49

. . . or perhaps it was the excitement of the crowd, but when the emcee announced the lineup, the very young (maybe fouror f ive-year-old) Neci said to her father, “ This is what I want to do.”

Photo courtesy of Neci.

50 | Winter 2021

hit in the early 1960’s, when her father took her to a rock and roll show at a New Jersey drive-in movie theatre. Maybe it was the anticipation of getting to see Dee Dee Sharp live, or perhaps it was the excitement of the crowd, but when the emcee announced the lineup, the very young (maybe four- or five-year-old) Neci said to her father, “This is what I want to do.”

After graduating from Lake Clifton High School in Baltimore, Neci enrolled in Towson State University. She remembers hearing the college radio station, WCVT, in the cafeteria, thinking, “I can do that.” She ensconced herself in the studio, learning as much as she could, and asked for a chance to spin discs. One day, she got her break when the usual DJ didn’t show up. Soon after, she had her own show. It was AM radio, top

40 music, and Neci was ecstatic.

She was very likely one of the only Black female disc jockey playing top 40 music at the time.

She worked at WCVT for many years. She won’t be specific, but she says that it was a very, very long time. Then she had to make a choice: finish her college degree or make money playing music at a nightclub.

She chose music over academics and became the first Black female DJ to spin discs at the Hippo, Baltimore’s most popular, very gay, mostly white nightclub. That changed her life. Working with DJ Ernie Dunda, Neci learned how to beat mix and work the lights.

When Dunda left Baltimore to work at Studio 54, Neci stepped in. Soon, she was working at other discotheques in Baltimore, at Girards, Cignal, and The Rev. She also picked up jobs at other radio

stations in town. She played a wide variety of music: urban, jazz, alternative, top 40, reggae, and country.

Neci had a habit of calling David Einstein at WHFS to see if there were any job openings. He finally hired her, somewhere in the 1980s, to host the 2 a.m. to 6 a.m. show. Because she didn’t drive at the time, she would take the bus from Baltimore to the Annapolis Bus Depot on Spa Road, then walk all the way to the Main Street studio with her records under her arm. Every so often, Damien Einstein would give her a ride home.

“What are you doing?” she would ask her late-night listeners when they called the station to make requests. The guys stocking the shelves at the Bay Ridge Giant and the 7-11 would be listening.

The law enforcement officer

upstart-annapolis.com | 51

DJ Ennis from WCVT, Neci, and TJ Robertson, production engineer at WHFS. Photo courtesy of Neci.

Neci with The Mighty Lemon Drops. Photo courtesy of Neci.

Neci with Erasure. Photo courtesy of Neci.

Contact sheet from a show at the original 9:30 Club on 9th and F Streets, Washington, DC. Photo courtesy of Neci.

Neci with listeners and Mary Kay LeMay, WHFS's promotions director.

Photo courtesy of Neci.

Neci at one of many live promotions.

Photo courtesy of Neci.

52 | Winter 2021

sitting in my chair, rocking, someday I’ll be thinking about some of the bands I met. I met the guys in Crowded House.

And was blown away because I love Split Enz and I love Crowded House.”

One day, in 2006, without warning, WHFS entirely changed format. Neci had been working her usual shift and got off at 6 a.m. Later that day, WHFS became El Zol, a Spanish radio station.

She stayed with the station for five incarnations.

The COVID-19 Neci at WHFS in the "Darth Vader Building" shutdown and in Landover, Maryland. Photo courtesy of Neci. aftermath was tough country music in Nashville,” she for Neci. She didn’t have a job says. “I did country music for six for over a year. She stayed home months. It was great. I had a ball. with her four dogs, and she played It was another one of my miracle music. Now, she teaches Pilates at dreams. I always wanted to be a Ruah and Sculpt over Zoom. She country radio jock.” is the fill-in person for Audacy Things seem to happen for Neci, and goes to whichever radio so she may get her wish. It’s really station needs a substitute DJ. “I’m not an impossible dream—which grateful to be working whenever I is also a really great song. █ can work. I love my job. Any time I get to go in and play, I do,” she says.

She has a dream, but it’s not To learn more, follow Neci on what one may expect. “I’d like to Instagram, Facebook, be the first Black female to do and Twitter @Neci1065.

WAVES

responding to a call requested Pantera. The DEA agent on a stakeout wanted to hear “Mexican Radio.” “There is a photograph of me with Tipper Gore and two of her security guards, who were like, ‘Man, we used to rock you in the Pentagon all the time at night!’” she remembers. “I would get calls from the Naval Academy, or they would yell at my window on their way to the Academy, ‘Yo Neci!’”

She gave “mad love” to her listeners. They were with her all night. And they rarely turned the dial. Neci hosted a local music show and a reggae show. After work, she would take in the local music scene, listening to bands including Ten Times Big, East Is East (who played at her wedding), and Craig Carr. Now, she listens to bands, including Pressing Strings, Jah Works, and Doug Segree.

When WHFS hosted the HFStival from 1990 to 2006, it was known as the biggest music festival on the East Coast. She remembers the Red Hot Chili Peppers getting the whole crowd that filled RFK Stadium moving, and seeing Rage Against The Machine play its last show. She walked around, cruising boys with Fred Snyder from the B52s, and watched festivalgoers misbehaving in the upper rafters of RFK while Fatboy Slim performed his music.

“It was pretty funny,” she says.

“But there are several bands that I just . . . when I’m in my home,

upstart-annapolis.com | 53

CAUSE

Badass Bird Woman

by ANDREA STUART

S

itting on a wrought iron perch that reaches up from the ground, a juvenile barred owl stares at Donna L. Cole, an award-winning investigative and multimedia journalist. The bird’s deliberate black eyes contrast its softly mottled gray and brown feathers, still downy with youth. On any given day, Cole can peer from her bedroom window to see owls, such as this one, who have found sanctuary in her yard.

Cole’s bed is imprinted by her body; its linens are a cocoon that holds her when the pain becomes nonnegotiable.

Her longhaired Weimaraner, Ludwig, lies by her side. Some people might find a room where so many hours are Great horned owl release in October near Thomas Point Park, Annapolis.

Photos by Donna L. Cole.

56 | Winter 2021

upstart-annapolis.com | 57

“It was the f irst time I had ever seen bald eagles in the wild.

These birds were on the brink of extinction because of DDT.”

spent confining. For Cole, this space has given birth to a life and world outside of her discomfort.

After Cole’s bilateral mastectomy, in 2012, her life was obscured by a color conversion lens that washes a previously vibrant landscape with dampened hues of blue. Nerve damage and debilitating pain—as Cole has come to know recovery—are relentless contenders that threaten to down the US Navy veteran after

Owls. Photo by Donna L. Cole.

58 | Winter 2021

she won the war over cancer.

That year, on June 13, while standing on a grassy knoll along a private recreational area of the Severn River, Cole and her then 10-year-old daughter, Rylan, felt the weight of a winged shadow from above. In the sky, a brown and white sculpture soared: a juvenile bald eagle. Nearby, an adult eagle sat on a piling and another juvenile rested on the dock. “In that moment, I was changed,” she says. “It was the first

Rescuing an osprey in Kent Narrows in September.

Photo courtesy of Donna L. Cole.

Renesting of a barred owlet in Bowie. Photo courtesy of Natalie Woodard.

upstart-annapolis.com | 59

time I had ever seen bald eagles in the wild. These birds were on the brink of extinction because of DDT. But thanks to Rachel Carson, they’ve bounced back.

Now, my daughter views them as ubiquitous as squirrels.”

The imprint left on Cole was still fresh when, later that month as she lay in bed, “blobs” flitted outside her bedroom window.

Stymied by what she assumed was an opioid-induced apparition, Cole then heard a high-pitched screech.

Summoning strength, she made her way to the backyard, where she saw broad wings soaring through the yard. They belonged to two juvenile

barred owls who had left the nest, their adult parents nearby. “There is no cuter thing than watching those baby barred owls grow from the comfort of my own home,” she says.

“One year, one landed on my bird feeder five feet from my window.”

Before long, Cole found herself at Conowingo Dam, one of the largest gathering spots of bald eagles outside of Alaska during the winter months. “There’s ample opportunity to photograph birds in flight,” she says. “The comeback of the bald eagle is among the greatest conservation success stories of my lifetime and the only one I’ve personally witnessed.”

Already an experienced photographer, Cole became inspired to expand her repertoire to include nature, especially birds. Sometimes, with her Nikon D500 in tow or with a simple point-and-shoot camera— one of her favorites due to its light weight and easy maneuverability— she captures images of bald eagles, great blue herons, ospreys, songbirds, and, when they visit, snowy owls.

As a Navy veteran, Cole has a deep love for the United States of America and for the bald eagle. In 2019, when Maryland State Parks Ranger Jessica Conley organized and opened a rapture rescue and triage class to the public at Tuckahoe State Park—a

Donna L. Cole and Ludwig at Sandy Point. Photo by Karen Davies.

60 | Winter 2021

program created by Ranger Sarah Milbourne at Rocky Gap State Park—Cole was among the first in line for attendance. Since her formal training, she has become a volunteer bird rescuer at Owl Moon Raptor Center and has helped rescue over 100 birds along the Mid-Atlantic.

She might not have taken that class if not for working at WNAV. In 2018, two years after 13 bald eagles were found dead, the media had stopped reporting on those federally protected birds and the US Fish and Wildlife Service had closed the case, citing lack of evidence. “I was infuriated. Where were all the reporters?” she says with fire on her tongue. “Then, I realized I was it! I’m a journalist, and I’m an animal lover.” She needed to find out what was killing them. The culprit was carbofuran, a federally banned pesticide. “In spring 2018, I broke the story on WNAV. The New York Times and the Washington Post, among other media outlets, shared that reporting.” Cole’s work covering the poisoning has led to numerous journalism awards and changes in pesticide licensing regulations in Maryland. She continues to share bird of prey reports on her website, Annapolis Creative.

Birds of prey are wild and unpredictable, and thus rescue work is equally gritty. Cole finds it gratifying, terrifying, and humbling. No two rescues are alike, and each one requires patience and skill. “These birds are fierce and beautiful. In rescue scenarios,

Rescuing a bald eagle in September in Annapolis.

Photo by Lauren Miller.

they are helpless,” she explains. “It’s imperative that we protect ourselves as much as we protect the birds.”

Birds of prey, in particular, end up in distress for myriad reasons. Among the most common are rodenticide or lead poisonings, fishing lines, gunshot wounds, vehicle strikes, window strikes, and illnesses.

There are numerous moving parts in a rescue effort. After a call comes in about a bird in distress, a rescuer is deployed. The bird is

upstart-annapolis.com | 61

Renesting of a barred owlet in Bowie. Donna L. Cole on the left (holding the owlet) and fellow rescuer, Nancy McDonald, is on the right. Photo courtesy of Natalie Woodard.

Owl in the backyard. Photo by Donna L. Cole.

62 | Winter 2021

Great horned owl release in October near Thomas Point Park, Annapolis.

Photo by Donna L. Cole.

She credits her fellow rescuers and the licensed wildlife rehabilitators they volunteer for who have deep knowledge of and great success with rescue and rehabilitation efforts. “I don’t know why, but the rescue world is largely made up of badass women,” says Cole with a soaring laugh. “I would not want to be surrounded by anyone else. They have everyone’s and every bird’s back. They go head-to-head with talons, time and time again.”

Despite the atrocities that require Cole to continue her reporting and rescue work, she keeps a surprisingly positive attitude. “Rescue work helps me as much as it helps the birds.

They rescued me first,” says Cole of why she is compelled to keep

going, even when her body resists.

“Photography, on the other hand, takes me somewhere else. When I look through the lens, I am in a different space. I’m not in my painful body.”

At the end of the day, when Cole is resting her weary body, she sees from her window a pair of barred owls roosting in a nearby tree. One reaches over and begins preening the other’s head. The recipient closes its eyes, bows its head, and leans into the show of affection. These precious moments keep Cole grounded to what matters most in life: the natural world she works hard to protect. █ To learn more about Donna L. Cole’s work, visit www.annapoliscreative.com.

CAUSE

placed in a cardboard box with breathing holes and handed over to a transporter, who takes the animal to a licensed bird of prey rehabilitator. The rehabilitation facility medically treats the sick or injured bird. But some rescues require deviation from that process.

In September 2021, Cole received a call from an off-duty ranger in Annapolis. A family reported an injured eagle at their home. Sunset had cast the sky in purples and grays, ebbing into darkness and greater uncertainty.

This forced Cole and the homeowner to race against dusk and work diligently to coax the eagle from tall reeds. After finally succeeding, she brought it back to her house to meet another rescuer, who delivered another bald eagle.

She transported both eagles to Owl Moon Raptor Center in Boyds, Maryland. “There, Suzanne Shoemaker, the director, was without volunteers. So, I stayed until 11 p.m. holding birds for her so she could treat them,” she says.

The rescue world is often in need. In 2020, as the COVID-19 pandemic escalated, bird rescues were short on transporters.

Rescuers, who had also been transporting, couldn’t keep up with the turnover. “I put out a call on Facebook for transporters,” says Cole. “That transpired into a group of over 80 transporters in Maryland, Delaware, Washington DC, and Pennsylvania.”

upstart-annapolis.com | 63

S K AT E

SNOW

SHOES

CLOTHING

1908 forest drive, suite 1f

HOOD

TRIBE

EVERYBODY NEEDS A

by BRENDA WINTRODE Photograhy by MARY ELLA JOURDAK

A

bout a half dozen farmhands sit at café tables in a small kitchen space at Langton Green Community Farm’s Millersville ranch house.

They are sorting and bagging the day’s harvest, about 50 pounds of sweet peppers, for distribution to the nonprofit’s 34 residences.

Dani Ierardi, farm program manager, who facilitates farm work programs and art classes for adults with different abilities, says everyone helps with the ever-changing list of farm chores.

She considers all of the program participants part of a team, “It doesn’t matter if you have a disability,” she says through the boisterous talk of those around her.

Soon, the crew will plant the fall greens. The goats, pigs, and chickens must be fed. Animal cages need to be cleaned and hen eggs collected.

And that’s just some of the work undertaken on the farm.

Langton Green, first established in 1984 as an alternative to traditional institutions, bought the 13-acre property seven years ago. The residential and vocational programs provide independent living support and job training for adults with intellecutal and developmental disabilities. The farm provides a piece of the nonprofit’s mission— empowering individuals to reach their full potential through meaningful work—by teaching them all aspects of harvesting and processing food, landscaping skills, training community volunteers, and working with others.

Donations supply the farm workers’ minimum-wage pay.

Director of Operations John Iaquinta says the team did their homework before diving into the nonprofit’s newest venture. He looked at similar vocational farm programs across the state and scoured the county, looking for a reasonably priced agricultural property. And he’s satisfied Diana Davis holds freshly laid eggs.

66 | Winter 2021

upstart-annapolis.com | 67

with the result. “I think the idea is that our folks do have something to offer,” he says. “They’re not simply an expense on a Social Security line item. . . . They’re also capable of giving back and doing for themselves.”

Each morning when Iaquinta, who oversees staff and management of the property, drives up the long, paved road to a sustainable, vocational farm in the middle of suburbia, the career human services professional smiles to himself. “I pull up the drive in the mornings . . . and still halfway giggle, sometimes,” he says. “What, just a wonderful thing.”

Plans and visions for the future of the farm acreage continue to bloom.

In 2019, AnnapolisDahlias are harvested in the field by Juantwanette Kelley and Denise Miller. based greenspace designer Nature Sacred awarded Langton Green the first of several Back at the livestock pens, grants to transform a swath of back program participant, Blair Williams, field into an outdoor performance age 28, and her coworkers feed the area. Groups trained in music potbelly pigs and round up the therapy will use the space to practice chickens. Williams, a four-year and perform concerts, with an eye on community farm veteran, has done accessibility. Iaquinta also envisions just about every job on the farm, performances by many groups open but her favorite job is helping her to the wider community. “We’re coworkers. “It feels happy inside,” kind of dipping our toes into a lot she says. “I can go home, like, ‘Yes, I of different pools and kind of seeing did this. I accomplished this job.’” what people respond to,” he says.

68 | Winter 2021

Denise Miller, day program manager, schedules workers like Williams with job coaches and plans their daily responsibilities. Miller has watched many individuals learn and grow over her 14 years with the nonprofit. Being able to see them get out and live a normal life, pack their lunch, get dirty, and go home “We’re kind of continues to impress her. dipping our Iaquinta says he toes into a lot of looks forward to once again hosting the different pools festivals, community and kind of seeing volunteer days, and what people school field trips Langton Green respond to.” used to have before the COVID-19 outbreak shuttered those programs.

Until then, his community supports director, Diana Davis, keeps safely engaging those inside and outside the grounds. Davis says that building a community takes inviting people in and allowing them to invest a piece of themselves in a place. She believes that everyone has an innate desire to give of themselves, whether it’s building something for the farm or volunteering to pick crops.

“Everybody needs a tribe,” she says.

Davis joined Langton Green while working on her bachelor’s degree in psychology. Fourteen years later, with a master’s degree and certifications in animal therapy, beekeeping, and yoga, she combines all of her skills to support the individuals at Langton Green. She uses precise language to describe the very nature of her job, emphasizing that she supports individuals at Langton Green; she does not serve them.

“If an individual comes into therapy very upset, the goats are not coming around,” she says, giving an example of how she uses livestock

Blair WIlliams squats down to greet pigs in the pen.

Trish Dempsey and John Iaquinta laugh with Juantwanette Kelley in one of Langton Green's garden spaces.

Soft orange dahlias bloom in the foreground, while loofahs, behind, show their yellow flowers.

upstart-annapolis.com | 69

Arleigh helps Mallory Bryant feed kale to the goats.

Pigs and chickens happily enjoy their dinner together.

70 | Winter 2021

Diana Davis points out one of the chickens, all of which she has playfully named and regularly meditates beside.

John Iaquinta and Trish Dempsey talk outside of the pig pen.

Mallory Bryant and Blair Williams collect eggs from the hen house.

River stands ready to herd the goats.

leftovers, becomes a learning opportunity and a potential job.

Robert Williams, age 23, works with the landscape crew, which maintains properties throughout the county. During his five-hour shift, he also collects hen eggs, cleans the livestock stalls, and gives hay to the pigs. Williams started working on the farm about a year ago and says it’s exciting because “you never know what they are going to have you do.” He likes multitasking and going with the flow. He says that people learn to work together on the farm, and the job coaches support the workers. “You work with different people, people work with you.” he explains.

“They’ll help you the best they can.”

Williams has his eye on the future. He is working on getting his learner’s permit and would like to have his own place. Right now, he shares an apartment with other residents of Langton Green.

When Bryant, the farm manager, hears Williams talking about his interest in engine repair, she says that she might have a job for him this winter; there are some weed whackers that are out of commission. He answers, “I’m very good with my hands.” █ For more information, visit www.langtongreen.org.

------------------Individuals at the Langton Green Community Farm who appear in photos are safely distanced, observing required safety and health protocols.

HOOD

Dani Ierardi hauls freshly harvested kale to feed the pigs, chickens, and goats.

to support therapy sessions.

The goat’s avoidance sparks a conversation. Davis then brainstorms with the person what they can do while they’re working through strong emotions. “That’s teaching coping strategies,” she says. “When you’re angry, you probably don’t want to be around anybody.” She explains that animals are the projection objects, instead of other people.

People-centered thinking runs through the veins of Langton Green and the community farm. Davis has learned through experience that new program ideas must involve the participants. “I may think an idea is great,” she says, “but if the community or the individuals that we support don’t think it’s great, it’s not going to work.”

Eventually, Langton Green plans to share a piece of its front yard with seniors who have downsized and no longer have gardens. In exchange for a few volunteer hours in Langton Green programs, seniors could grow their own vegetable patch.

When Davis reached out to hear opinions from seniors who might participate, they told her that the garden beds should be raised to avoid having to get down to and up off of the ground.

Mallory Bryant makes sure that the sustainable garden grows vegetables while gauging what the workers are physically and mentally able to do to help her efforts. “In everything that I’m doing, I’m looking for opportunities for our individuals to participate,” she says. Every step in the growing process, from planting seeds to composting

Goats frolic on their playground. upstart-annapolis.com | 71

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74 | Winter 2021

DANCING WITH

Tammy Wynette Story & Photography by LEAH WEISS

“W

e’ll drive over the mountain,” the van driver said, turning off the Ring Road and starting up the slope, leaving behind what already seemed like the top of the world. As we rose further out of the city, I gazed at the steep, green hills speckled with rocks, red and yellow wildflowers, sweet grass, and miniature cotton.

Sheep dotted the pastures and foraged, slowly roaming the slopes as if they owned the land, which in a way they did.

It was remarkably quiet for a Friday morning. Nearly everyone was sleeping after late-night revelry marking the start of Ólavsøka, the national holiday.

The fog had lifted by the time I was picked up. Minutes before, from my niece’s living-room window, I watched the island of Nólsoy slowly emerge through billowy strands of gray cotton-

candy clouds. Rain pattered continuously from an overcast sky—a typical summer day on the Faroe Islands.

The airport was about 50 kilometers away, on the next island. I hadn’t traveled this route since they’d built the tunnel for easier access. Riding on it took me back to my first visit, shortly after my sister settled in the Faroes.

Those same feelings welled upon seeing the misty, verdant, treeless landscape: wonder, excitement, reverence. They filled my lungs, and my eyes felt as they did when I saw the Grand Canyon.

As we crested the mountain, breathtaking formations that were obscured to riders on the lower road came into view. Channeling my college geology professor, I discerned how the valley had been carved out by glacial ice that, after melting and receding, left large, gentle swaths; they looked like soft, green basins seated atop

There are more sheep (70,000) than people (50,000) on the Faroe Islands.

upstart-annapolis.com | 75

“Oh. I love Dolly Parton,” he gushed, as much as a Scandinavian could, “such a beautiful voice.”

The view westward from Viðareiði, the northernmost village, on the island of Viðoy.

multilayered basalt cabinets. The fjord below clearly presented as an extension of where the huge water table of ocean met the vale.

“What’s that, over there?”

I asked, pointing to the only structure visible for miles, a grassroofed building nestled into a cliff overlooking the fjord.

“Ah. That used to be the NATO building. North American Treaty Organization. But they left. Now, it is a jail. For drunk drivers.” His pauses lent a unique cadence to his speech.

“Nice view to sober up to,” I smiled.

“Yeh!” He inhaled the word sharply, sounding more like a gasp

76 | Winter 2021

than a casual affirmation. When I heard someone do that, my very first day on the Faroes, I physically recoiled, thinking that it was a warning that something was about to fall from an overhead shelf. I’ve since found myself articulating my yesses likewise when I’m around my Faroese family.

I was his only fare to the airport that morning. I recognized him when I opened the van’s back door and he asked me to sit up front—he’d picked me up at the airport when I arrived, ten days before. Like many older Faroese I’d met, his manner was reserved.

That first night, as we turned onto my nephew’s street and he

saw the house where I was to be deposited, he’d quietly said, “Ah, the musician.”

Everyone is either related to or knows everyone else on this archipelago, these “rocks plunked down in the middle of the North Atlantic,” as my sister calls them.

One day, my niece’s car wouldn’t start, and someone nearby came over to help. When I turned to introduce myself, she interrupted, grinning from ear to ear, saying, “I know exactly who you are!”

Choral music was playing over the van radio. I wondered if it was one of the Faroese hymns that would be sung at midnight, when everyone gathers in the center of Tórshavn for the close of Ólavsøka.

“You are from the United States?” asked the driver. The windshield wipers hummed as they continued clearing off the rain.

“Yes. I live near Washington, DC, in Maryland.”

“Ah. What do you do there?”

“I’m an editor. And, um, I’m a musician.”

“What kind of music do you play?”

“Fiddle and guitar. And I sing.”

I started involuntarily falling into his pausing cadence. “Traditional American fiddle music. American roots music. Some originals. Old country music.”

I detected a slight smile. “Old country music?” he asked.

“Yes.” “George Jones. Loretta Lynn.

Lefty Frizzell. Faron Young?”

Spoken slowly, stated more than asked. He knew the old country stars. I’d been watching the masters in their heyday on

YouTube, learning their approach and ornamentation, then making the songs my own.

“Yes,” I replied, “I especially like Loretta Lynn’s early songs. Merle Haggard, Melba Montgomery’s duets with George Jones. Connie Smith.” He nodded along as I spoke. “Dolly Parton —” “Oh. I love Dolly Parton,” he gushed, as much as a Scandinavian could, “such a beautiful voice.”

“Her early material with Porter Wagoner is great,” I replied, noticing our shift in tone. I explained that she wrote “I Will Always Love You” as a platonic love song to Wagoner when embarking on her solo career.

“Ah. Yes. They were fine together.” He seemed to reminisce.

I mentioned songs I’d learned, and he nodded approvingly. I noticed, with mild amusement, that I’d stopped pausing. As

View of the island of Nólsoy, Tórshavn harbor, and the houses of parliament (in red). Tórshavn, the capital of the Faroe Islands, is on the island of Streymoy.

we drove through a village, the fog swirled through the rain. It felt as though we were the only ones wide-awake on these sleepy islands. Then he spoke.

“Quite a few years back, I was stationed at Thule Air Base in Greenland. Part of the NATO forces. The Americans brought top-notch musicians over to entertain their troops. We all got to attend the concerts. That’s where I heard many country singers perform.”

I looked over at him.

“I got to hear Johnny Cash.

Merle Haggard. Many others. It was quite something,” he said, shaking his head, as if in a reverie.

“When George Jones and Tammy Wynette came to perform, there was an opening band. She danced with many of us during that opening set. So. I got to dance with Tammy Wynette.”

He gave me a quick, sidelong glance, then turned back to watch the road with a modest smile.

It took me some moments to respond.

“What was she like?”

“She was . . . approachable.

Gracious. And a very good dancer!” His eyes twinkled.

He parked the van in front of the airport’s main entrance and walked with me to the ATM, where I withdrew money and paid the fare. We smiled, shook hands, and said farewell.

As I handed my boarding pass to the security guard, the words to George Jones’ song “It Was a Good Year for the Roses” came into my head. I realized that I was already humming the melody aloud. It stayed with me for hours. █

TREK

Village of Gyógv, on the northeast tip of the island of Eysturoy.

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THE MITCHELL GALLERY

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Floating Beauty: Women in the Art of Ukiyo-e

January 7 - February 25, 2022 2

PHOTOI BRUT from the Collection of Bruno Decharme

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THE UNEXPECTED TREASURE IN ANNAPOLIS

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Utagawa Kunisada (Toyokuni III), (Japanese, 1786-1865), Standing Courtesan, 1828, ink on paper. Gift, Mr. and Mrs. Jenckes through Mrs. Wendell Jay, Reading Public Museum, Reading, PA.

Elke Tangeten (1968, Waimes, Belgium): Untitled, 2013. Embroidery on chromolithograph adhered to paper.

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