Up.St.Art Annapolis Summer 2015

ART+CULTURE+LIFE

ANNAPOLIS

SUMMER 2015

M A R Y L A N D F E D E R AT I O N O F A R T Eye of the Beholder: the fine art of the found object Exhibition Dates: July 18 – August 8, 2015 at MFA’s Circle Gallery July 26 3-5 p.m. Reception at Circle Gallery.

Awards presented at 4:00 p.m.

ABOVE: Greg Harlin, Battle of New Orleans, War of 1812; ABOVE RIGHT: Fort McHenr y, September Spetember 1814 BELOW: Greg Harlin, Hugging the Darkness; BELOW RIGHT: Mississippi original watercolor and prints available exclusively at the Annapolis Collection Gallery

THE ANNAPOLIS COLLECTION GALLERY 55 west street 21401 www.AnnapolisCollection.com 410-280-1414 on gallery row in historic annapolis

T H E A RT I ST RY of HAND CRAFTED ADORNMENT

W W W. L A B E L L E C E Z A N N E . C O M | 410.263.1996

CONTENTS

Volume 2

|

Issue 2

Canvas

14

Shadows and Light

By Julia Gibb

20

ART+CULTURE+LIFE

Waves Starpoint’s Shining Star

By Tom Levine

Snap

26

Through the Eyes of the Beholder

By Leigh Glenn

32

ANNAPOLIS

Concept Joe Knows Tattoos

By Chris Kalman

Sup

38

SUMMER 2015

Taqueria Juquilita’s Authentic Flavors

By Chris Kalman

COVER Painting "Pamela" oil on board. By Kamajian

Ink

44

8 | Summer 2015

Telling Stories from the Margins

By Leah Weiss

Motion

Wunderkind

50

68

Hula’s Rich Heritage

By Julia Gibb

Threads

Hood

56

74

A Creative Spirit Takes Flight

By Desiree-Smith Daughety

Emote

AGO

62

78

The Melody of a New Theater

By Zoë Nardo

Taking Annapolis by Storm

By Emily Karcher

Songs of Support

By Patty Speakman Hamsher

The Music Connection

By Tom Levine

Editor’s Inkwell

T

here is

no ego.

There is

no entitlement.

There is no

expectation. No right

or wrong. There is only

the exploration of one’s shivering, naked personal truth. That is art.

For better or for worse. In the raw

and unapologetic. Culture chiseled by curious hands and courageous

attitudes. This idea is what brought me to Up.St.ART Annapolis,

where unadulterated prose and

sincere imagery weave together a mosaic of humanity for an

intimate glimpse into the creative process. Sometimes it’s effortless

and tidy, other times it requires a pickaxe and leaves one bloodied

and bruised. But the result is often satisfying, even from the muddy

trenches of restlessness where the

consequences of such labors are not always obvious. It is here that I am content to sit, looking upon you,

the reader, and hoping . . . no . . .

anticipating that you find a nugget

or two that illuminates a little piece of life. That is all.

upstart-annapolis.com | 9

THE ART OF ESCAPE.

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ART+CULTURE+LIFE

ANNAPOLIS

Publisher & Creative Director Jimi Davies jimihaha@gmail.com Editorial Director Andrea Stuart upstarteditor@gmail.com Copy Editor Leah Weiss Associate Editors Leigh Glenn Katherine Matuszak Contributing Editors Julia Gibb Patty Speakman Hamsher Chris Kalman Emily Karcher Tom Levine Zoë Nardo Desiree Smith-Daughety

Art Director Cory Deere cdeere@gmail.com

Contributing Photographers David Burroughs Alison Harbaugh Emily Karcher Joe Karr Larry Melton John Bildahl Glenn Miller Advertising Jimi Davies jimihaha@gmail.com Tom Levine tomlevine3@gmail.com For distribution inquiries, contact Jimi Davies at jimihaha@gmail.com

Please visit our website at

www.upstart-annapolis.com

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

Mailing Address: Up.St.Art Annapolis P.O. Box 4162 Annapolis, MD 21403 410.212.4242 SUBMISSIONS: For article submissions, email proposal to andreastu@gmail.com. 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 © 2015 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.

12 | Summer 2015

S C R I B B L E R S E M I LY K A R C H E R Emily Karcher is a lover of a good laugh, a good cup of coffee, and a good story. Formerly a publicist at the U.S. Secret Service and White House staffer, she believes everyone has incredible life stories. Currently completing her Masters in Writing at Johns Hopkins University, Emily strives to capture life through prose and photography (www.EmilyKarcherPhotographycom). She lives in Anne Arundel County with her favorite storytellers: her husband and their three strawberry-blonde-haired children.

TOM LEVINE Tom Levine writes for several magazines about architecture, design, culture, and music. When not on assignment, he wiles away hours smugly thinking about how he snookered Jimi Davies into paying him to wile away even more hours hanging out in bars and listening to bands. He knows that he’s lucky. Really f***ing lucky.

JULIA GIBB A native Annapolitan, Julia Gibb earned a bachelor of fine arts degree at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, DC. She teaches traditional Hawaiian hula at Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts.

CHRIS KALMAN Chris Kalman is a writer originally from Northern Virginia. After travelling all over the world while following his passion of rock climbing, he has found himself temporarily marooned on the Eastern Shore. He loves puppies, books, and Mexican food.

LEIGH GLENN For nearly 30 years (15 as an editor and nine as a speechwriter), Annapolis resident Leigh Glenn has written for numerous publications and associations, including The Washington Post and St. Petersburg (Russia) News. She has a master of fine arts degree in nonfiction from George Mason University. Her freelance credits include a reference book for ABC-Clio. She holds certificates in community herbalism and permaculture design, and has worked as an herbalist, teacher, and plant-walk guide.

LEAH WEISS Leah Weiss is a freelance editor and writer with roots in environmental and energy policy, music, and arts. She enjoys helping specialty writers present their work to a broader audience. Leah also teaches fiddle, performs with Gary Wright, Ahren Buchheister, and other area musicians, and co-hosts 49 West Coffeehouse's monthly American Roots Night music series.

PAT T Y S P E A K M A N H A M S H E R Patty Speakman Hamsher is a freelance writer and a dreamer living on the Eastern Shore of Maryland with her husband, two daughters, and six chickens. When she’s not fantasizing about traveling or overanalyzing parenthood, she is chasing writing opportunities and blogging at Salinity Press.

ZOË NARDO Twenty-three with a journalism degree.

Will never outgrow the craving for Storm Bros.

DESIREE SMITH-DAUGHETY Desiree Smith-Daughety lives just a short paddle away from the Chesapeake Bay. She is co-founder and co-author of Waterfrontwriters.com, a creative showcase website. She has published two nonfiction books as well as articles in diverse publications, and has just completed a novel.

upstart-annapolis.com | 13

CANVAS Oil on board

14 | Summer 2015

Oil on board

SHADOWS & LIGHT

By Julia Gibb

K

amajian and I briefly greet each other outside of Zü Coffee in Crofton.

He ducks inside to get himself a hot tea as I wait in the outdoor café area.

The night is mild but turbulent, caught between winter and spring, the full moon occasionally peeking through scudding clouds.

His appearance seems to cause a stir in the gaggle of young vapeers gathered near the entrance.

As I wait, I try to eavesdrop. “[Mumble mumble] Kamajian . . . yeah, he comes here sometimes,” is about all I get.

I feel as if I’m being treated to an encounter with an elusive but affable nocturnal creature in this unlikely suburban habitat. Over the next couple of hours, I learn that, like his inspirations and subjects, nighttime is when Kamajian comes alive.

Although the mononymous artist describes himself as a private person, he slips easily into conversation, talking about his Armenian heritage, his father’s career with the Air Force, and his lifelong attraction to the dark and creepy; monsters, vampires, and spiders have always captured his imagination. He recalls being interested in art, music, and science from an

upstart-annapolis.com | 15

early age. When he received toys as a child, he would hold on to the packaging, more fascinated by the images printed on the boxes than by the toys themselves.

He coaxed rhythms out of everyday objects, using pencils as drumsticks. His aptitude in multiple branches of science led him to consider a career in medicine. Art would be the winner in this potent mix of callings, and so Kamajian attended Rhode Island School of Design in Providence, where he studied illustration and fine art. Oil painting, computer graphics, digital three-dimensional modeling and animation, and sometimes photography now serve as media for his visual art.

Over the years, Kamajian has produced art for DC Comics' Batman series and the artwork for Jimmie’s Chicken Shack’s album re.present, along with the oil paintings and digital images he produces for his own creative fulfillment.

He incorporates the mood of his influences deeply into his work, and those familiar with German expressionist film, film noir, and the complex mythology of Batman’s Gotham City will easily recognize those themes therein. Using the Old Master technique of chiaroscuro, Kamajian carves cityscapes out of darkness—skyscrapers with Art Deco design feature towerlike petrified shafts of light; industrial elements intermingle with the human form; monochromatic hues

16 | Summer 2015

Oil on board

and chiseled physiques give figures a gritty, statuesque presence. Strong diagonals lead the eye around his compositions, lending movement to the monolithic presences.

Kamajian fixes me in his startlingly lucent gaze as he explains his particular penchant for the Batman character. Unlike other superheroes, Batman has no superpowers. He is fully human, his power shaped by a childhood trauma that precipitates his lifetime endeavor to resolve his pain by focusing every ounce of attention on fighting crime.

To Kamajian, the character represents the idea of good coming out of bad, and about seeking knowledge. As an adult, he realizes that there is something complex and poetic about Batman. He suggests that anybody who has had a transformative experience, especially an artist, can relate to this character.

I jump at the chance to see his work at his home studio, which is a rather nomadic affair, as he relocates it to a different part of his home depending on his mood.

Right now, his easel sits in a shadowy corner of his den, where he can paint while his favorite black-andwhite movies play in the background. He pulls out a few panels for me to view.

The combination of complex dappled glazes topped with a gloss varnish create a mysterious glow. I cannot help but recall, from our conversation outside of Zü,

Digital media

if it is a difficult life. “You know the answer to this.

The answer is that it doesn’t matter, as long as you love what you are doing.” And as he strives in his work to transcend his technical proficiency and evoke an emotional response in the observer, the moral of one of Kamajian's favorite German expressionist films, Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, seems to ring true of art as well as life: “The mediator between head and the hands must be the heart.” █

CANVAS

technical prowess. To put himself in the right frame of mind to capture his ideal cityscapes, he explains, “I imagine I’m an artist in Gotham City, and I paint it the way I would paint it if that was my world.”

Kamajian is not a big promoter of his own art. He rarely participates in gallery exhibits, nor does he sell his fine art. Aside from his illustration work, his art is something he does because he loves it. Drumming, too, has a soul-nourishing effect on him, as do the yoga and meditation he practices.

We swap stories about the patched-together kinds of lives we lead, and I ask

Oil on board

his love for phosphorescence and blacklight effects, which he also incorporates into his live percussion experiences.

It is easy to imagine that the paintings are lit from within by some strange bioluminescence shimmering through murky waters.

Currently, he is trying to allow his paintings to be more painterly and less photorealistic, using a mix of traditional and non-traditional tools. He directs me to the easel in the corner of the room, and criticizes the work there for being too technically polished, asserting that it is a bit of a step backwards. As with his drumming, his focus now is more on eliciting an emotional reaction, and less on

Oil on board

When he received toys as a child, he would hold on to the packaging, more fascinated by the images printed on the boxes than by the toys themselves.

upstart-annapolis.com | 17

Fine American Portraiture & Figures Oil | Pastel | Fusain

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WAVES

20 | Summer 2015

Starpoint's

Shining Star

By Tom Levine Photos by Larry Melton

I

t was not surprising that the Greg Phillips Trio closed out the show at Rams Head On Stage during a recent benefit for the Annapolis Musicians Fund for Musicians (AMFM).

Following nearly a dozen other local acts that each performed two songs, Phillips took the stage and was clearly in charge. While accompanied by two solid musicians—Brian Goddard on bass and Bryan Ewald on guitar—Phillips’ drumming was front and center. About a minute or so into “Moby Dick,” the drum solo began. For nearly five minutes, the audience was mesmerized. His playing was pleasingly aggressive, his sticks a blur. This was not a sideshow about fast drumming—it was a fully realized piece of music. Everything in Phillips’ drum set, the bass, high hat, snare, and cymbals, was in play. He used them to not just drive the beat, but provide texture and tonality.

Phillips comes from a large family, the youngest of three daughters and five sons. His mother, Anna, emigrated from Panama and was a concert pianist. George Sr., his father, was born in Tobago, and was a psychiatrist and the superintendent of Crownsville State Hospital. They lived on the hospital campus in an old mansion—a great perk for a family of ten.

upstart-annapolis.com | 21

...they were given their gold records just before taking the stage at Madison Square Garden.

Greg Phillips Trio - Craig Carr, Greg Phillips, Todd Kreuzburg

22 | Summer 2015

refer to a Phillips screwdriver as a starpoint, they knew that they had found the new name for their evolving R&B band.

By 1980, Starpoint was taking off. The band signed with Elektra/ Asylum Records, and was putting out hit albums and playing arenas, opening for the Isley Brothers and Luther Vandross by the middle of the decade. Their songs landed in the top 10 on the R&B charts, and when, in 1985, “Object of My Desire” hit 25th place on the Billboard 100, they were given their gold records just before taking the stage at Madison Square Garden.

It was a great ride, and when it wound down in 1990, Phillips was poised for a musical career that took him around the world, touring with artists such as Najee and Angela Bofill. He always returned to Annapolis, and over the years he’s backed nearly every local musician and hired many of them for his own duos and trios. His drumming remains as passionate and sharp as it was 30 years ago.

When Starpoint first took off, Phillips was just the little brother, accomplished but not yet confident. He still gets chills remembering a drum solo at the Capital Centre in the mid1980s. As he played, he looked up into the rafters and saw his image on the jumbo screen—a close-up shot—and then saw himself shedding the skin of a shy teenager. He realized that he owned the moment, the stage, and the crowd, and knew that he was a musician. █

WAVES

Growing up, the house was alive with music. Phillips’ parents were accomplished singers and brought their rich Latin American and Caribbean musical heritages to Maryland. All of the children learned to play instruments. Phillips took up the flute in middle school, but his heart was somewhere else.

He taught himself to drum using pots, pans, and tabletops as snares, cymbals, and high hats. When he acquired a proper drum set, Phillips and his brothers started playing together. The venue was the living room, and the audience was whoever had come for dinner.

It wasn’t long before Phillips and his brothers, George Jr., Lloyd, Ernesto, and Orlando, formed a gigging band. JR and the Royals played for house parties and local high schools during the 1970s, covering songs by groups such as The Temptations and Kool & the Gang. The band featured horns, keyboards, the Royalettes singing backup, and ten-year-old Phillips on drums. It was soon renamed Licyndianna, a tribute to sisters Lisa, Cynthia, and Diane, and mother Anna.

Music was a great refuge for a shy teenager, and during his teens, Phillips took over the family turntable. He listened to everything he could get his hands on, from calypso to classical, but he fell hard for straight-edged fusion jazz by artists like Chick Corea and Stanley Clarke, and fell even harder for 1970s English rock bands like Genesis and Yes. In the late 1970s, Lloyd left the band, and Renee Diggs, a dynamic lead singer, and Kayode Adeyemo, a childhood friend and keyboard player, joined. When Ernesto and Greg heard a Guyanese friend

www.reverbnation.com/thegregphillipstrio

upstart-annapolis.com | 23

The nature of art is the art of nature.

410.266.8586

stewartlandscape.com

Annapolis Pediatric Dentistry

L On Mission in Jaipur, India

By Andrea Stuart

ongtime Annapolis pediatric dentist Beverly Ann “Sissy” Jimenez enjoys working with children from all walks of life, which has earned her a reputation as “denizen of the world.”

Dr. Sissy’s colorfully adorned office, complete with local art by a family friend and poster-sized photos from dentistry mission trips abroad, is a deviant from the average dental office. The creative space reflects both Dr. Sissy’s passion for helping others and her love of spreading joy. One wall in particular depicts Dr. Sissy on various missions, providing dental care to underserved children in other countries. “Parents often point out the kids in the pictures to their children. On that level, they can understand that, whether privileged or not, everyone needs the same level of care,” Dr. Sissy explains. “As a dentist, my service doesn’t change, no matter the environment . . . even if I’m on a sidewalk. I feel I affect children’s lives by helping them learn how to cope, even in small doses.” It’s not always easy; some kids cry because they are afraid or have painful situations, but Dr. Sissy says they always learn a little something about coping, and often gain self-esteem.

Dr. Sissy has set up a clinic in northern Thailand for a school of Akha hill tribe children, as well as a clinic in Jaipur, India, with a nonprofit group called Yogamour. She has treated children in Vietnam with the nonprofit group Operation Smile, and she traveled to an area in Manila, Philippines called Tondo, where there is a community living on a former garbage dump site. “Everywhere I have traveled, I have tried to share my skills in order to help those less fortunate. It is always an emotional and rewarding experience. And there is always so much more to be done,” she shares.

The dichotomy between Dr. Sissy’s office and her mission trips serve as a reminder that we all require the same services and respect. Supporting and sharing art is one way that Dr. Sissy conveys that message. It helps, too, that she is an artist in her own right. “Even filling a tooth is like making a sculpture,” she says. For her, patient rapport and relating to them is at the heart of her work. “I will tell kids that I’m going to paint their teeth,” she says describing a routine dental procedure. This makes the experience tangible and fun.

Dr. Sissy has an idea for making the summer of 2015 extra-artful. She plans to have her daughter lead patients in a rock painting activity out front.

“I just want them to be comfortable and feel good about the environment,” she concludes. And it doesn’t hurt that they giggle and smile in the process.

Dr. Beverly A. (Sissy) Jimenez​

ann a p ol i s p e di at r i c de n t i s t r y.com

www.f a cebo ok.c om / A nn ap oli sPe di at r i c D e nt is t r y 41 Old Solomons Island Rd Suite 103 Annapolis, MD 21401 | 410.573.0691

upstart-annapolis.com | 25

SNAP

Through the Eyes

By Leigh Glenn Photos by Larry Melton

of the

Beholder E

very medium of expression is about capturing light—the arch of a ballerina’s foot en pointe, Van Gogh’s Starry Night, a Bach prelude.

We swim in an ocean of light, yet we are like fish that don’t know water. This makes capturing light a challenge, especially with visual images.

Overemphasizing image, as our culture tends to do, makes it difficult to see. And when we seek it out, we often have tunnel vision. For photographer Dick Bond, a camera gives him sight.

As such, he has spent his life learning how to see.

26 | Summer 2015

When it comes to photography and visual images, Dick Bond may be Annapolis’ best kept secret. Former photography students from Anne Arundel Community College and Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts know him, as do his small group of followers, whom he calls the Luddites. He is also a familiar face to some of the old-timers at the Naval Academy Museum, the City of Baltimore, and the State of Maryland, where he has photographed for various projects.

Born in Nova Scotia 73 years ago, Bond left the Maritimes at age six, when his father’s work brought the family to Philadelphia’s Welsh Valley. Growing up, Bond often traveled into the city to explore the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and the Franklin Institute, a science museum, became his home away from home.

In 1960, Bond came to Annapolis to attend St. John’s College. One day, a friend borrowed Bond’s camera to take pictures at the National Zoo, and Bond was struck by the images. He then thought he should be the one taking pictures. When he did, he made what he considered completely indiscriminate, mediocre photographs that lacked content and composition.

He developed his photographs in a small basement darkroom at a friend’s house outside of Washington, DC. His time behind the camera and in the darkroom allowed him to make a number of amateur mistakes, which informed one of the first lessons he would later share with students: “In photography, there are an infinite number of mistakes you can make; endeavor to make them only once.”

St. John’s College did not provide Bond with enough course work in mathematics, so in 1962, after marrying his girlfriend, Meg, he enrolled at the University of California in Berkeley. He soon realized that mathematics did not provide him with the clarity he sought. His thesis, on relativity and black holes, earned him a recommendation and acceptance into the astrophysics program at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. He and Meg moved to the East Coast in 1964.

While studying at Hopkins, he served as a teaching assistant. The college had rules governing speech both on and off-campus, and faculty and staff who attended anti-war demonstrations were penalized.

Despite being near the end of his doctoral course work, Bond quit school. He fell back on his avocation, photography, and began taking on assignments and instructing at Anne Arundel Community College.

But Bond’s obsession was not with photography—it was with seeing.

He recalls being assigned to document the remaking of Baltimore Harbor and hating the idea of photographing junk. To his surprise, he fell in love with machinery. One machine, a steam-powered Vulcan pile driver, mesmerized him. “Every time it dropped, a cloud of the whitest vapor you’ve ever seen in your life puffed up. That blue blue sky and the white white vapor . . . I have never really gotten over it.”

For five years, Bond was the official photographer for the US Naval Academy Museum. One of his projects—photographing the interiors of model ships—allowed for the study of shipbuilding history. He put an endoscope and a fiber optic cable through the miniature gun ports of a 1710 British model ship and painted the interior with light for 20-minute exposures. This offered an intimate look at details that no one would have otherwise seen.

Bond once believed that seeing was about getting closer and closer to a subject. In that pursuit, he amassed longer and longer lenses. But this turned out to be another mistake. “[At first,] I saw photography as a way to revere that which was hidden from our normal senses,” Bond says, but then he realized differently. “The things we fail to see are not hidden deeply—they’re right on the surface, and we still ignore them.”

upstart-annapolis.com | 27

Bond reveres the woods and their inf inite possibilities.

“If I impart to my viewers some fraction of the magic I encounter in the woods,” he says, then he has done his job.

28 | Summer 2015

Once he learned this, he gradually sold off all of his long lenses.

Seeing leads back to light.

Over the years that he taught photography, Bond had a singular initial assignment for students: photograph the same object in different settings, over and over.

Students learned about light—what reflects it, what diminishes it, and what it looks like against all types of backgrounds.

Bond says that, of the more than 20,000 images that he reviewed from that assignment, no two were alike.

This illustrates another key aspect of Bond’s teaching—photographs serve either as mirrors for those who make them, or as windows that show the world as it is.

He tried to instill in his students the importance of acting as mirrors with respect to their subjects. Doing so is key to making photographs that delve deeper than simply documenting or capturing a moment in time.

“Your attention is worthy of your subject,” he says, “and paying attention is very much harder than it appears on the surface.”

At Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge, one student set up his camera just slightly off the trail, waiting for the moment when the sun would be just right. People walking the trail began silently congregating around him. When the moment came, he pulled the release, taking the photograph, and the crowd started clapping. Bond laughs with joy, on the verge of tears, as he relates this story.

In photography, there is always a conflict between process and product. If the emphasis is on product, then attention is not paid to the process. Bond says that emphasis on process is evident in the images of great photographercraftsmen such as Ansel Adams, Frederick H. Evans, and André Kertész—regardless of their subjects, these photographers were all paying attention.

Bond now uses the same type of camera that Kertész used, an 1895 Korona Viewfinder that once belonged to a student’s grandfather. It took Bond about three months to restore it. He appreciated the Hungarian photographer’s clarity of vision, which he recognized some years ago at a retrospective at the National Gallery of Art. “I was blown away by what he was constrained to do by his camera.”

That helped him feel a bit better when he could not get the film to print at a larger size. He brings out a book of Kertész’s work, where

many of the early photos measure only one and one-half by two inches. “I was shocked,” he says.

Before his stroke nearly oneand-a-half years ago, Bond used to haul all 32 pounds of tripod and camera to Bacon Ridge Natural Area, near Crownsville, to go on what he calls meditative walks with photographic interludes. He collected those photographs into 17 volumes, which he named À la recherché d ’images perdu, a riff on Marcel Proust’s À la recherché du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time).

Using the Korona has opened up another world for Bond to explore.

“I never learned so much,” he says, “it does give the word ‘deliberation’ a whole new meaning. This format is so big, so clumsy, and so slow, that I actually get the feeling of the light exposing the film.”

And the results?

The lush black-and-white images would be impossible to capture with the human eye. We just don’t see that way—every leaf of skunk cabbage sharp, the lights and shadows on and among them just as sharp, the trees in the background clear. You could only have a richer experience by being with Bond when he’s making these images. Bond reveres the woods and their infinite possibilities.

“If I impart to my viewers some fraction of the magic I encounter in the woods,” he says, then he has done his job.

Over its nearly 200-year history, photography has had its share of critics, including those who maintain that it has detracted from our ability to really see a particular thing. Bond is not one of those people. “It’s allowed me to see better,” he says. Moreover, it has enlarged his imagination. “That is a gift beyond price.” █ To read the full article on Dick Bond, visit www.upstart-annapolis.com/dickbond

SNAP upstart-annapolis.com | 29

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CONCEPT

Photo by Joe Karr

32 | Summer 2015

JOEaKNOWS ttoos T

A

By Chris Kalman

bove a small, inconspicuous storefront off West Street, between Hudson and Willow, hangs a bold sign that reads Orange in big flowing letters. One could easily miss the other two words, Tattoo Company, in simple small, dark print. When I walk in, the predominant color scheme is—you guessed it—orange. My mind drifts to Tropicana commercials and sunny Florida beaches as I look around the walls, lined with brightly colored skateboard decks. I then cue in on the buzzing of tattoo machines, and am reminded of where I am.

I’m here to talk with Joe “Joweone” Nasatka and am a little nervous. I don’t have any tattoos.

I’ve been to a few shops before, with friends who wanted hand-holding or a drop off/ pick up. I know what to expect, and I bring those expectations into the interview: tattoo shops can be summed up as dark dungeons of sadomasochists who don’t give a !@# what you think, and you can take your business and shove it if you don’t like their heavy metal music.

At least, to date, that had been my experience in tattoo shops. But when I walk through

Orange Tattoo Company’s door, most of my preconceptions and misgivings are dispelled.

Big south-facing windows keep the room bright, even on a gray day. There is a clerk at the front of the store who greets me when I come in. She is friendly and interested. There’s punk rock music coming from the speakers, but it’s not so loud that I can’t hear myself think. I feel comfortable, which is something I’ve never felt before in a tattoo parlor. Cool.

In a moment, Nasatka is out front to see me.

He’s as much an amalgam of contradictions as the store itself. He’s got a big beard, longish hair, and a strong build. You can tell that he could hold his own in a mosh pit. But he has kind, gentle eyes, and a voice to match.

I feel drawn in as he begins telling me how he got into tattoos: “I was born and raised in Annapolis, have an older sister, younger sister. At an early age, I fell in love with skateboarding. Punk rock music took over my life and how I do things. I was definitely the black sheep.” I’m nodding along to the familiar tale. My path in life didn’t take me into punk, but I know what it’s like being the black sheep.

upstart-annapolis.com | 33

Still, Nasatka doesn’t seem to have much of that burning resentment and cynicism that typically accompanies social ostracism.

Nasatka’s interest in punk music kindled his interest in tattoos. He started paying attention to the album art and tattoos of his favorite musicians. “Pushead, Coop, Kozik—

34 | Summer 2015

those guys really turned me on to art.” In 1994, right out of high school, he accepted a job at Capitol Tattoo in Silver Spring. Already an artist at the time, his focus was mostly on painting and drawing.

His co-worker James Hughes saw Nasatka’s potential and began to take him under his wing as an apprentice.

The tattoo industry has changed a lot since then. Today, people tend to want tattoos that mean something to them and are very specific about what they want. “Sometimes their ideas are feasible, sometimes they aren’t,” he says. Either way, the consultation process is much longer and more in-depth than it used to be. He doesn’t mind this, though, even if it costs him money. “Some people come in with an idea of what they want, and it’s just really not going to look good in five years,” he explains. “They might get mad at me when I say I won’t do it, but I’m not going to lie to someone and say it will look good if I know it won’t.” Nasatka, like most tattoo artists, gets paid per tattoo, not per hour; if he turns down a client, he loses money. “Some of those people go off and find a tattoo artist who will go ahead and do it anyway. And you know what? Some of them come back to me after five years and say ‘you were right,’ and ask me if I can fix it.” He’s not at all smug as he says this; he’s just being matter-of-fact. Tattooing is an art, and Nasatka knows his medium.

Orange Tattoo opened its doors in 2010, after the previous tattoo shop in town had tanked, and when a few others were popping

up in the area. Nasatka looks around at the unique floor layout and open atmosphere.

“Orange started with the concept of creating an open, comfortable, friendly place that was not the status quo, but still remained true to our punk music and skateboarding roots,” he says. “We wanted to create a place where everyone gets treated well, and nobody gets ignored.”

While tattooing has become more mainstream and the tear-jerker tattoo predominates, Nasatka has begun focusing more on his other artistic outlets, such as painting, drawing, concert posters, and album art. “I get these ideas that would make really great tattoos,” he tells me. “Or I’ll get a client, and I’ll draw up four designs for a tattoo. Of course, he only takes one of those designs. The other ones I might like better, though. I can expand those into these larger paintings or drawings. So the two mediums really inspire one another.”

As we wrap up the interview, the shop is buzzing. There are three machines working and a couple of customers in the front, looking through tattoo books. For Joe Nasatka and Orange Tattoo, it’s just another busy day at the office. █

CONCEPT

In the beginning Nasatka mostly practiced on friends. “[They] were willing to let me make mistakes,” he chuckles, “under the promise, of course, that ‘you’d fix it up when you got better at it.’” But it wasn’t all fun and tattoos. The apprenticeship included a lot of hard and dirty work. Whether scrubbing toilets, answering phones, or doing any number of other odd jobs, he paid his dues for a year or more before he really got his start.

Back then, there were fewer “tear-jerker” tattoos, as Nasatka describes them. People just wanted to get ink, and many didn’t care what particular ink that would be. He recounts one of his first big tattoos. The shop had a running contest of sorts to see whether someone would get a tasteless tattoo if the price was right. On a chalkboard in front, someone would draw something—“As bad a drawing as you could make,” says Nasatka—“and give it a special low price.”

There was once an outlandish drawing of a cat’s head up there, and one day somebody came in and asked for the cat’s head. “My boss looked at me, and I knew I was up. I just played along and pretended like I’d been doing this forever,” he tells me, laughing.

www.orangetattoocompany.com/artists/joe-joweone-nasatka

upstart-annapolis.com | 35

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38 | Summer 2015

AUTHENTIC

F L AV O R S

By Chris Kalman Photos by Glenn Miller

I

t is just past one o’clock. My stomach is already rumbling as I make the turn from Forest Drive onto Hillsmere. In a small shopping complex with red signs and storefronts, the name Taqueria Juquilita immediately catches my eye. This is the place.

Officially, I am here to interview Alberto Rojas-Zayas, one of the establishment’s proprietors. Unofficially, I am here to eat lunch. Taqueria Juquilita was described to me as a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant.

Being a connoisseur of such establishments, I had doubts about that from the get-go; a lot of people describe a place as a hole-in-the-wall when they simply mean “inexpensive chain restaurant with greasy food.” A true holein-the-wall is like a diamond in the rough— exquisite food, authentic atmosphere, and neither ostentatious nor pretentious ambiance.

I have traveled all over the world, including Mexico, and done it all on a shoestring, so I know what a hole-in-the-wall should look like.

When I open the door to Taqueria Juquilita, only one thought crosses my mind: “Okay, this place looks legit.”

I scan the room. To the left, a television is mounted on the wall, playing some indistinct Univision telenovela (a Latin soap opera), a fridge stands full of Jarritos (Mexican sodas),

tortillas, and salsas, and a big red, white, and green sign reads MEXICO. The cash register is front and center. There is no menu on the counter or mounted on the wall behind it, no visible signs of a menu anywhere—just a handwritten sign that says Cash Only. To its left, a few obscure pictures hang that may or may not show anything related to Mexico or the restaurant. This is exactly what a bona fide hole-in-the-wall looks like.

I barely have time to look to the right when a smiling, jovial man asks if he can help me. He’s radiant, excited to see me. When I tell him I’m here to see Alberto, his face breaks into an even wider grin. “That’s me, I’m Alberto!” He’s positively beaming. “This guy is awesome,” I say to myself. He grabs me a Jarritos mandarina (a mandarin orangeflavored soda), and we get started.

“We [Rojas-Zayas, his parents, and his two siblings] came to Orange County in California in 1990,” Rojas-Zayas begins to tell me. Suddenly, he runs back into the kitchen, and I hear him saying “Mama, fue mil novecientos noventa, Septiembre, verdad?” His mother confirms that his memory is correct— September 1990. She is also the culinary genius behind Taqueria Juquilita, and has been cooking since she was a child living in Mexico.

She makes all the sauces, cuts all the peppers,

upstart-annapolis.com | 39

onions, and cilantro. Except for the tortillas, everything is done from scratch.

“My mom cooks as if she’d be cooking for us,” Rojas-Zayas tells me. This is the definition of a true family establishment.

Throughout the interview, RojasZayas is incredibly friendly and never stops smiling. People come in from time to time, and after excusing himself, he greets each customer with a cheerful “Hola primo, que quieres comer?” (Hello cousin, what would you like to eat?)

He says they get a real mix of people— not just Latinos, but folks from all ethnic backgrounds. Some come from as far away as Pasadena and Glen Burnie. “When we get these traveling customers,” he tells me, “I’m always really excited, you know? We just want to make really great food. So when people are traveling all the way here [to eat], we know we’re doing something right.”

Indeed, Taqueria Juquilita is doing something right. When I ask RojasZayas what I should order, he runs through the list. Offerings include everything from the usual enchiladas, tacos, burritos, and quesadillas to more exotic options such as menudo (a traditional Mexican soup), mole (a chile/ chocolate sauce), elotes (Mexican-style corn on the cob), and burritos mojados, wet burritos smothered in tasty green or red chile sauce. I order the burrito mojado, and start salivating when it arrives. You can tell that this burrito was not just thrown together, but prepared with care and attention to detail.

The first bite bears out the quality of the food. The sauces—I opted for half red and half green—are exquisite and the spice is not overbearing. Subtle flavors of tomatillos, garlic, onions, and cilantro come through. Delicate shreds of perfectly cooked chicken fill each bite. As I ease into eating mode, I forget about the interview and then realize that Rojas-Zayas is still sitting there, smiling at me as I enjoy my meal. He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised.

40 | Summer 2015

Although Taqueria Juquilita is still relatively unknown in the grand scheme of Annapolitan dining, it is starting to develop a following.

One of its regular customers started up the restaurant’s Yelp account, which is picking up steam. The reviews are excellent, with one exception; that poster commented, “Very sketchy place. No prices posted, menus printed

on paper, and cash only.” He was clearly outside his comfort zone, possibly seeking a more commercialized Tex-Mex fix. If that’s what you’re looking for, then you can take your pick from the chain restaurants around town. But if you want delicious authentic Mexican food at a reasonable price, Taqueria Juquilita may be your best bet. █

SUP

Taqueria Juquilita opened in 2007 and is still working to realize its full potential.

Plans are in the works to launch a website and bring in a credit card machine. It is located a little off the beaten path, but being just across the street from Quiet Waters Park, is a perfect place to stop for a quick meal after a hike or a bike ride. At the Mexican tienda a few doors down, you can buy traditional products such as the Oaxacan cheese you enjoyed at dinner.

As I finish up the interview, RojasZayas's mother comes out and delivers some elotes to his sister. I get excited about this type of corn, which is grilled with Oaxacan cheese and butter and sprinkled with chili powder. Rojas-Zayas catches my enthusiasm and runs back to the kitchen to get one for me to go. As I pack up my laptop and turn off the tape recorder, Rojas-Zayas trots over to the cash register to ring up a customer who had a Torta Cubana—a Cuban style sandwich that was so large that it looked like two sandwiches.

I cannot make out the exact price on the register, but, including a Mexican cola, the bill comes to less than ten dollars.

upstart-annapolis.com | 41

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44 | Summer 2015

TELLING STORIES FROM THE

MARGINS

By Leah Weiss

Photos by Alison Harbaugh

P

eter Manseau wasn’t prepared for the flood of hate mail that deluged his email inbox almost immediately after his oped piece was posted on the New York Times website on February 9. Manseau, whose most recent book is One Nation, Under Gods: A New American History (Little, Brown and Company, 2015), had never seen such a response to his work. But then, he hadn’t published anything about Islam that was so widely read. “Emotions are very high around that subject at the moment, and people who feel very strongly about it are very quick to hit ‘send’ on an email,” he says.

The op-ed addresses the cancellation of an imam’s scheduled appearance to recite a Muslim prayer to bless the opening of a rodeo

upstart-annapolis.com | 45

in Fort Worth, Texas, due to the backlash brought on by a prayer he had offered a few days before.

That backlash and the volatile emails Manseau received reflect the view held by many Americans that the United States is in the midst of a new “Muslim invasion” that threatens our culture.

Manseau’s essay explains that, in fact, Islam has been part of our history for centuries and is actually as American as the rodeo.

Research for the essay came out of One Nation, Under Gods, which offers an alternative view of America’s 500-year history through stories from its religious minorities. “It’s always a matter of a number of competing and conflicting religious ideas negotiating together to create the national culture,” says Manseau.

46 | Summer 2015

“Realizing that our history is more complicated than we often have been taught is a way of expanding our appreciation of what the country is.”

Religion, history, and identity are key themes in Manseau’s writing because they have deep roots in his personal story. Raised near Boston, Massachusetts, he is the youngest child of a former Catholic nun and priest who married as a protest against the Catholic Church’s rule of celibacy.

Manseau was brought up as a Catholic, but never practiced. At college, he studied religion in part to understand his unique family situation. It was there that he decided to become a writer.

He was drawn to storytelling— and religion as his major topic— when a job at the National Yiddish Book Center in Amherst, Massachusetts, took him up and down the East Coast, collecting books from Jewish families.

He felt a particular connection to Yiddish literature; many of its great writers, such as Isaac Bashevis Singer, were raised in a religious tradition that they did not fully accept, but felt compelled to write about. “They were writing about where they came from, and using that as a way of thinking about the entirety of human experience,” he says.

After moving to Boston, Manseau started an online magazine, Killing the Buddha, with his colleague Jeff Sharlet.

Its purpose was to create a deeper forum for discussing religion.

“The way in which religion tends to be talked about in the media wasn’t doing justice to the complexity of it,” he says. “You would find stories that were either entirely positive or entirely negative, either stories about the church bake sale or stories about terrorists.”

“Everything, if you scratch it enough, is a religion story in a way, because every story involves some element of belief, whether it’s belief in a traditional religious sense, or just belief in terms of what people think about the world and their place in it,” he says.

“There is an element of that in every story you can tell.” █

www.petermanseau.com

Religion, history, and identity are key themes in Manseau’s writing because they have deep roots in his personal story.

INK

He and Sharlet eventually went on a yearlong cross-country road trip to collect people’s stories about religion for a book. It was the first time Manseau thought of himself as a journalist, and he began to understand the social, interactive aspects to writing. “For someone in his twenties who had only imagined himself being a fiction writer up until that point, the idea of going out and talking to strangers was a real revelation and a challenge. It makes you get out of yourself and overcome any kind of shyness, because if you don’t talk to people, you can’t get the job done.” The book, Killing the Buddha: A Heretic’s Bible (Free Press) was released in 2004.

Manseau then wrote a family memoir, Vows: The Story of a Priest, a Nun, and their Son (Free Press, 2005). It was soon followed by his award-winning novel, Songs for the Butcher’s Daughter (Free Press, 2008), a story of the last Yiddish poet in America—a writer and his dying language—and Rag and Bone: A Journey Among the World ’s Holy Dead (Henry Holt and Company, 2009), which explores belief through fascinating stories about religious relics from many traditions.

In 2011, Manseau and his wife moved to Annapolis to live near his in-laws on their family farm.

His studio, a cozy unheated shed just steps from the house and chicken pen, showcases books, religious objects, and humorous handmade items from his two young daughters. He is currently curating an exhibit on American religions for the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of American History and working on his next book, a history-driven project that will have a religious element.

upstart-annapolis.com | 47

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MOTION

HULA’S

By Julia Gibb

50 | Summer 2015

RICH HERITAGE

I

Kuhi no ka lima, hele no ka maka.

Where the hands move, there let the eyes follow.

(A Rule in Hula) Pukui: 1868-201

n an Annapolis studio, dancers stand quietly at attention, hands are palms down at their chests, and elbows are out. The teacher strikes a gourd drum, and the dancers call out a phrase in Hawaiian, introducing a chant and choreography dedicated to King David KalÄ kaua, the nineteenth-century monarch credited with bringing hula back to the forefront of Hawaiian culture after its suppression by colonial and missionary influences. The rhythm begins; feet step in unison, arms extend into subtle motions, and breath flows more forcefully. While this is a familiar ritual of music and dance in Hawai'i, few Annapolitans know that hula has many devoted local practitioners.

I grew up in Annapolis, but my family roots in Hawai'i span several generations.

Every summer for the past eight years, I have traveled to the island of O'ahu to study with kumu hula (hula master) MÄ puana de Silva. I teach for a hula group called Annapolis Hula at Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts, and there are two other hula groups within 25 minutes of the city. Many of the students have a family connection to the Islands, and some are of Hawaiian ancestry, but more had their interest in the dance sparked by vacations in Hawai'i or by other encounters with Hawaiian music and culture. I met with students and teachers from all three groups to find out why there is such a desire for hula in the area, and what keeps practitioners fascinated with the ancient practice.

Traditionally practiced by both men and women, hula can be executed at high or low intensity. All ages can participate. In 1975, Kas Nakamura of Pasadena started her school, HÄ lau Pulama Mau Ke Aloha Ka 'Ohana 'Ilima, after studying and performing in Hawai'i for several years under two kumu hula on O'ahu. Nakamura

Waiting to dance. Photo by Web Wright

upstart-annapolis.com | 51

Hula with ʻiliʻili, water-worn pebbles. Photo by Web Wright

Hawaiians memorized mele and their accompanying choreographies, passing them from generation to generation...

52 | Summer 2015

has had ten strokes, but continues to dance, leading her group with the assistance of her advanced students. Though she has lost part of her vision, her doctors have remarked on her admirable sense of balance.

“They couldn’t figure it out,” she says. She credits decades of dancing, exclaiming gleefully, “That’s thirtyplus years of hula!”

Nakamura’s students enjoy the physical challenge, their dedication to the dance sustained by studying its associated music and culture. “If you’re doing exercise and you don’t enjoy it, you’re not going to stick with it,” says Nakamura’s student and teaching assistant, J. J. Peterson.

“I’m a historian by trade,” says

Mary Nelson, owner and teacher at 'Ilima Hula Studio O Maryland in Crofton. “I appreciate the fact that in hula, not only do you learn the dances, but you learn about the culture, the history, the places, the language. So it's just a much richer experience than a typical dance class.” Nelson’s students are learning to understand Hawaiian terms, chant and sing in Hawaiian, and imbue their motions with meaning derived from the poetic lyrics of the mele (songs and chants). Many of these compositions incorporate images from the natural world to convey several layers of meaning. For centuries, Hawaiians memorized mele and their accompanying choreographies, passing them from generation to generation, as a way of preserving history and spiritual beliefs, and sometimes to carry hidden political messages to the Hawaiian community. Hula still serves this function today.

“To continue telling these stories in the modern day,” says student Lynn Daue, “to have that kind of responsibility and privilege, is humbling.”

Annapolis Hula student Vicky

Hula students with puʻili (bamboo rattles) at Maryland Hall. Photo by Web Wright

regularly travel to Hawai'i to study with their respective kumu hula, take part in cultural events, or simply to learn more about the Islands.

They bring their knowledge back to the Annapolis area, creating lively outposts of Hawaiian culture on the Chesapeake Bay. █

MOTION

Swain speaks of the unique sense of well-being that she experiences from dancing, stating simply, “It balances me for the week,” a sentiment that elicits nods of agreement from her classmates. In all of my visits with area teachers and students, there was a feeling of camaraderie, marked by smiles, hugs, and easy laughter. Many mentioned the concept of aloha, a generosity of spirit toward one another, which tends to spill out into their everyday lives.

Those who are inspired by nature find that hula fosters a deeper appreciation for their environs through frequent references to plants, animals, land, and sea. Nancy Law, an airline pilot who has studied with Annapolis Hula for ten years, spends her free time working as a wildlife advocate. “I feel a soulful connection with Hawai'i because of [Hawaiians’] love of the land,” she says.

In the studio, the dance honoring Kalākaua draws to a close. The dancers recite another Hawaiian phrase honoring the king’s name, and the teacher sounds the drum, signaling the students to bring their hands back to their chests, quiet once more.

This hula has come full circle, creating a lei, or garland, an offering to Kalākaua, and to past and present kumu hula who make the continuation of this practice possible. Teachers and students from the three local groups

Hula instruments, skirt, and study materials (photo by Julia Gibb)

upstart-annapolis.com | 53

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56 | Summer 2015

A Creative Spirit Takes Flight P ur ro ug h

s

By Desiree Smith-Daughety

Photos

b

id av yD

B

eel back the layers of certain creatives and you will find that the stardust of which they are made is composed of pluck, nerve, hard work, determination, and inspiration—all blended with a unique twist.

Rose DiFerdinando is one such force, driven by deep family ties, self-expression through fashion, and the inspiration that comes from mixing with other creatives.

As a child, DiFerdinando told her mother that she wanted to be a pirate, explore the world, and live everywhere. Even now, she loves living in different places, immersing herself in local culture, and, in homage to her roots, making a new family everywhere she goes.

The thick strands of family ties unfurled enough for this East Coast girl to move across the continent to Los Angeles, hitherto sight unseen. It was there, in the town that can create a fodder of dreams, where DiFerdinando first began to truly come into her own. She arrived bringing a distinctive foundation developed from a young age: joyful, fun expression through fashion. Her experience included dressing and styling girlfriends for evenings out (with lessons on how to pose in front of disposable cameras) serving as hostess and server at her mother’s lavish soirees, and attending art school at the Maryland College of Art and Design in Silver Spring.

DiFerdinando’s first job was as an administrative assistant

upstart-annapolis.com | 57

She arrived bringing a distinctive foundation developed from a young age: joyful, fun expression through fashion.

Photo by David Burroughs

58 | Summer 2015

to the movie producer of 3,000 Miles to Graceland. He appreciated her work, but asked, “What is your passion?”

Being young, she did not know how to translate her interest in events coordination and fashion into a job title.

Nevertheless, he connected her with a fashion producer, and she helped produce shows, including an offBroadway Dolce & Gabbana show.

“You’ll either sink or swim,” one of her most influential mentors advised her.

DiFerdinando took on the challenge, learning to navigate the utter chaos behind the spit-and-polish front of a successful show. She produced shows for multiple seasons of the Los Angeles MercedesBenz Fashion Week, learning both back- and front-ofhouse production—from red carpet check-in to meeting with celebrities’ PR agents, to graciously accommodating small personal requests that included who could or could not sit with whom. Taking it all in stride, DiFerdinando perfected a poker face, instilling confidence in all a show’s players and never missing a beat, even when a

fire marshal once threatened to shut down an event.

She can dazzle a crowd with her innovation. While you may picture an austere, pier-like runway jutting into an admiring sea of fashion aficionados, add this to your visual: models strutting down a moss-covered avenue, each step sending sprays of gold dust aloft. Invisible behind this dramatic effect is the care that went into the set’s creation; only a detail-attentive person such as DiFerdinando would extensively research to ensure that the type of moss chosen did not smell like manure.

She shows that fashionable does not mean flighty.

DiFerdinando knows how to captivate audiences using multifaceted media and entertainers to best effect. Sometimes she’ll aim directly for the emotional jugular, as she did with the short film she directed that opened for a We Believe Foundation fashion show. The audience was taken through the surreal experience of a breast cancer diagnosis, from a routine mammogram check to ultrasound and biopsy, to a doctor delivering the only

flex and soar. She was voted best dressed by Baltimore Magazine in 2013, selected to be judge and presenter for the Fashion Awards Maryland 2014, and joined the Baltimore Fashion Alliance board to help strengthen the city’s fashion scene and make it a contender on the national stage. But the stage is broadening because now, having been accepted into the British Vogue Professional Studies Program in London, she is turning her sights eastward. █

Photographer Chris March Creative Director + Stylist Rose DiFerdinando Hair + Makeup Aubrey Schneider, Charm City Top Knots

MODE

spoken words during the film’s eight-minutes: “I am so sorry, you do have breast cancer.”

Seeking deeper connections and feeling the pull of the family that would not let her stay away any longer, DiFerdinando came back east after three years.

Though constantly inspired by Los Angeles, she had become a bit jaded. “Everyone there is their own brand, so you’re meeting their brand. I needed more real experiences with people.

I wanted to get back to more emotional meaning in my life, and I found that in Annapolis.”

Back home, she worked at a marketing consulting firm, researching social media just as it was taking off, and working with clients such as Palm Casino in Las Vegas. She fell in love with marketing and discovered she was technically inclined.

“I’m a bit of a chameleon,” she says. She also did a stint in the family business, Boardwalk Fries, as its marketing director, helping to develop the company’s first customer loyalty programs, design websites, and boost franchise sales.

DiFerdinando never expected to be involved in fashion in Annapolis until she met photographer David Hartcorn at a gallery opening in Annapolis.

Admiring his unique personal sense of style, she felt compelled to work with him. Her heart lit up after seeing David’s studio and a new medium—fashion photography—to flex her creativity. The casual poses that the audience sees belie the truth of ten- to thirteen-hour shoots; they require hard work, planning, vision, and an eagle eye for detail.

Currently living in Baltimore, DiFerdinando continues to

Ed Hardey 2007

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upstart-annapolis.com | 59

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F IA •R E O ITR A D E S O Y TO E S N H R E H A N P LD R S F A E C R N E S F I•R A E O TIA T E R S O N D Y O E S N H R E H A P LD N R S F •E C R E S F N O IPERRY •R A E B O TT E R N A D H Y O E N H R O E P LD H A N C R S F •O C R E F N O T•IR A E O TB E R A D S H Y O N H R O P L E D A N C H F •O A C S R E N O E T•IA R O TB R D E H S O D Y R O H P L E• FLOGGING MOLLY ••D SEETHER •M TOTO YES 3N DOORS DOWN •D MORE EREORM EORD M D M A •E A N N •M A W N •M W N D W SR D R SR O D RA O SN O R D O O 3•E D O •R 3•S D •E 3O Y •E •O S YO O •O YO O O •O O O •M T3R T R O E T R H E TW R H E E TA H S E TA •R E S Y EO •LE S LT Y •LO LD Y O LD G O N G IO G N G G IO G N O G IE FLOGGING EON R MOLLY E ON RD M O RD E O N R EO E A SEETHER O R R D •M EO EA O R N M D M E •O EA O W R N N M D M E •O O W N R N D M D •E A O •A W N N R SN D M •D TOTO R A O A W N N S N O D •D M E A O R W A W O N N R S N O D ••M •S E A D O R W •W O N R S N D D •YES M 3O E R A D W W O N S •E R S D D M ••T3O R S E R A D W S E •R N O S D D M •T3O R Y 3T S E R A D W N SN •O E R S D DOORS •O D D O S E Y R A D O W N SN •O E R O D 3•M T3 R D O S Y A D O W O •N S N •O ED 3•D M S 3 D T O R S Y A D O •E O N S •E O M D •3D •S Y 3 D DOWN T O R S Y W O R •E O N S •E O D M D •3E •S Y T O R D S Y O W O N E O H S•N O D M D •T 3•S Y E A T O R Y O T N W R O •AND S H •N E O D M •D 3•Y E T A SR D O •T EO TN W N R O •E S H •O D AND S E •M T 3•M E T A S Y R D O W TE TR N •LO N R O •E H S O •E D S M T Y 3 E O •M T A S Y E D O W R TE TR LO N •H R E H D S•E O D MORE S M L3 E O T Y •M S Y E D A O TW R E TR O N •L H S R E H D •E O D S M •L3 E O R T Y M S Y E T A O W D E TR O N •L H S O R E H S D •E D S M •LE G O R T Y 3S Y E T A O D •T• RAMSHEADGROUP.COM MO MCO M .PCU O .PO CU .M PO U R O G A R D E G A H D E S A H E S H R S R A R RAMSHEADGROUP.COM M OR CG O .M PD C U O M .P O C U O M R M .P O C G O U O M M R .M P D C O C O G U O M .A M P R .M PD C O E C U O G U O M .A H P R .M P O D C O C E U O G S U R .M P H R .M P O D C O G E U G O U SR .M A P H R D O M D O C G E R U G O S A R M A .H R P D O M D E C G ER U G O S A H R M A .H P D M O D E C G E S R U O S A H M A R .H M P D M O E C E G S R U O S A H M R .A H M PD M O E C R G S R U O SA H R .M A M PD M O C E R G S R U O A H R .M A M PD O E R C G R U SO M A R .

EMOTE

62 | Summer 2015

Melody T H E

OF A

New

Theatre

By Zoë Nardo

S

tanding on Taylor Avenue near Westgate Circle, imagine staring at a 65,000 square foot glass building with a sign that reads Maryland Theatre for the Performing Arts (MTPA). Its towering glass walls allow you to peer into the lobby and see the large staircase leading to the third floor. Annapolis is a historic city, drenched with colonial architecture, but what you’re staring at doesn’t conform. Moreover, the multi-use entertainment venue is surrounded by Park Place’s off-white beaux-arts stonework. Somehow, the two styles mesh. The light pouring onto the sidewalk from inside the building’s glass atrium acts as a lighthouse, navigating the visitor through the entrance.

Jeff Voigt stands on the site of the future Maryland Theatre of the Performing Arts at Park Place.

Photo by Alison Harbaugh

upstart-annapolis.com | 63

In this nautical town, it makes sense to take imagery from lanterns on boats and lighthouses for inspiration. Gary Martinez, president of Martinez+Johnson Architecture, was doing that when he designed the $45 million theatre. He uses light metaphorically, to show how this first-class performing arts hall will put a new shine on the city. Martinez, who has designed theatres all over the world, lives nearby and frequents Annapolis. “This is in my backyard,” he says. “I couldn’t let anyone else do it.”

Martinez’s attention to detail, from sizing and placement to installing light-emitting diode (LED) screens facing Taylor Avenue and inside Park Place, was particularly apparent in the theatre’s fourth major design alteration.

LED screens will allow broadcasts from MTPA’s stage or any stage around the world.

Martinez knows that the middle of row six in the 1,000-seat soundproof theatre is the sweet spot. Like an instrument, the entire hall can be fine-tuned for each specific genre, adjusting to best present for ballet, symphony orchestra, musical, or any other performance type.

Imagine walking up the massive staircase that bends along the central curved zone housing the main theatre—the glowing nucleus of MTPA. Reaching the third floor and turning right, follow the glass handrail that sweeps left, to one of two identical jutting atriums.

Its glass walls and ceiling frame the current exhibition. Sauntering by the displays and viewing the art on the wall, your eyes then wander past the glass to watch the people down below on the streets along Park Place.

The 1,200-space parking garage underneath MTPA must almost be at capacity, for it is a bustling scene. You overhear someone in the atrium saying that he is in town for a banquet being held in the main theatre hall.

This sounds like an awkward place to hold a banquet; does everyone sit in their seats with plates in their laps, facing forward? It doesn’t make sense until you check it out.

While going through its alterations, MTPA changed from being solely a theatre for the arts to a multi-use entertainment venue. When completed, the four-story orchestra pit can be lowered, the plush seats slid into the pit, and within two hours, the hall will be transformed into a flat area for large conferences or banquets, giving Annapolis its first large conference space. Jeff Voigt, the president of MTPA, sees the theatre’s adaptability as a way to keep the hall in use for as many as 250 days a year. One of the three atriums will be open for conferences or expositions. Voigt aims to Photo by Alison Harbaugh

counterbalance the lull in tourism during what he calls “the four to five months out of the year that you can roll the sidewalk up.”

The theatre will not only help Annapolis economically, but also enhance what already exists in the community. “We have a wonderful resource in the city right now and it’s Maryland Hall [for the Creative Arts],” says Voigt. “We have no intention of taking that away or competing with it. We want to complement it.” MTPA will not offer the classroom education that Maryland Hall provides, but will afford new cultural experiences for students through shows never before seen in Annapolis. When global acts come to town, Voigt says, “[they are] enhancing the community, not diluting it.”

Imagination will become realization in 2020, when MTPA opens its doors. Kathleen Terlizzese, MTPA’s director of development, teamed up with Annapolis musician and artist Jimi Davies (who is also the publisher and creative director of Up.St.Art Annapolis) to create the “Building the Theatre, One Note at a Time” campaign. Its first event, in March, raised over $100,000. Those who donate any amount, large or small, are considered “One Notes,” and those who donate $10,000 or more are “Whole Notes.” Together, they create the melody that is MTPA, which will be embodied in an installation piece crafted by Davies and based on all the personalized musical notes of thanks that each One Noter will receive.

“The theming of this fundraising is that it’s inclusive,” Terlizzese says. “Everybody can be represented. We want this to be everyone’s theatre.” █

Founding Circle's whole note pin made by Zachary's Jewlers

To donate or for more information go to 64 | Summer 2015

www.mtpa-annapolis.org

Gary Martinez • President of Martinez+Johnson Architecture

EMOTE

President of MTPA • Jeff Voigt

Kathleen Terlizzese • MTPA’s Director of Development

upstart-annapolis.com | 65

Photography + Filmmaking www.sugarfarmproductions.com

WUNDERKIND

Jack Peery, Katie Hall, Jacob Spitzer, Jackson Anderson, Trystin Martin

68 | Summer 2015

TAKING ANNAPOLIS BY STORM

By Emily Karcher

O

Photos by Emily Karcher

n a recent Saturday at School of Rock Annapolis (SOR), 11year-old Jackson Anderson warms up his picking hand on his red, aptly branded “Jackson” guitar. The assembled group, a mix of plaid shirts, checkered Vans® sneakers, and one 1980s-clad vocalist, begins a routine sound check.

“How about ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’?” asks Ben Grant, the band’s SOR mentor, as the rehearsal begins, referring to Nirvana’s epic original. Anderson starts in with the four recognizable opening chords, and is followed by 13-year-old drummer Jack Peery, who tears into the rapid-fire beats that help sustain the song’s unique sound. The other two band members—10-year-old bassist Jacob Spitzer and 13-year-old keyboardist Trystin Martin— join in while eight-year-old Katie Hall begins mimicking Kurt Cobain’s vocal nuances. A wild, swirling, thumping melody fills the studio for the next four minutes.

The band is Fast as Lightning, and its playlist, which currently includes 12 songs, is ever growing. The band members jointly wrote their first original song, “Kat in the Hat,” after Anderson met actor and musician Jared Leto at a concert, and the celebrity suggested the Dr. Seuss-inspired title. The group performs at some of Annapolis’ most renowned live music venues, and has a mounting online following.

upstart-annapolis.com | 69

Anderson, who is lead guitarist, daydreamed since kindergarten about starting a band, and even designed a preliminary logo that later morphed into their current brand. Last summer, in 2014, Anderson’s parents approached SOR about their son forming a band independent of the school’s performances, using SOR space for rehearsals. When the school agreed, the band began to coalesce, based on referrals by each new member.

“Their personalities are the same as any adult band that I’ve either been in or been involved with,” says Grant.

“It’s a synergy, where the sum is much stronger than the individual parts.”

As might be expected, an interview with this band is filled with giggles and half-finished sentences, a blend of intended coolness and quirky outbursts. They tease, talk over each other, recall a recent disagreement, and end up embracing.

They also debate everything—the definitions of certain music genres, the best local music venues for performing, whether they’ll be famous one day or go to college (or both). In the end, this much is certain: the members of Fast as Lightning are in it for the music, and share a deep love of learning, creating music together, and being in a band— not with just anyone, but with each other.

70 | Summer 2015

How did your band form?

Jack Peery: [Referencing the movie Star Wars] A long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away . . . [laughter]

How long has each of you been playing an instrument?

Peery: I’ve been playing for two years.

Katie Hall: I started guitar lessons in kindergarten. I really liked music when I was little. I first took guitar lessons at a music store.

Jackson Anderson: When I was seven, I started playing a video game called Rock Band, and I could play all the songs on expert-level. [So] I was playing video games, which is basically why I started playing guitar, and my parents signed me up [for lessons]. And I ended up liking it a lot.

Jacob Spitzer: I started when I was five, but my fingers weren’t big enough to play guitar. So then once [SOR] opened, I played guitar for two years.

Until I found out I really liked to play the bass instead. I’ve been playing bass and guitar for about three years now.

Trystin Martin: Two years. I don’t like playing sports, so my dad said I had to either play a sport or play an instrument, and I started liking piano.

Are you all best friends?

Anderson: Pretty much. We’re all friends now.

What is your favorite part about being in a band together?

Anderson: It’s fun and you make money.

Spitzer: I like the process of making your own songs and playing the songs we want to play.

Peery: I like all of it—the experience and the fun times I have doing music.

It’s all about the music.

How do you decide which songs you’ll learn to play?

Spitzer: Every two months, we pick two songs each, and we come in and play all the songs. We have to decide between one song each person has picked. And then those five songs are gonna be the songs that we learn to play.

Do you ever get butterflies when you perform?

Hall: Sometimes. Not always.

What is the hardest part about being in a band?

Anderson: Agreeing—agreeing on what to do and how to do it, in terms of what songs to play and how to play them. Agreeing on what type of band we want to be.

A little bird told me you might have had a fight recently. So you don’t agree on everything, but somehow you got past it?

Hall: Yeah. Because Mr. Ben gave us doughnuts! [giggles] Anderson: Doughnuts help everything. [laughter]

What songs do you play?

Peery: We’re kind of like an alternative rock band.

Spitzer: No, we’re an anything band.

We have Nirvana, we have grunge. We don’t really do “now” kind of music. We do older music, like '80s and '90s music.

We have “Just a Girl” from No Doubt, which is kind of pop[-like]. We have “All the Small Things” from Blink-182.

We have Weezer’s “Buddy Holly.” We have “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)”

by Journey, “Barracuda” by Heart.

Where do you see yourselves when you’re 25?

Anderson: We would come back to America.

Hall: We’d probably still be on tour and stuff. But if that doesn’t work out, I’d probably be a music teacher.

Anderson: I’ll probably be spending all my money at McDonald’s.

Martin: Sounds like a good idea.

Spitzer: Maybe one year we can, like, travel a little bit farther than the Annapolis and Baltimore area?

Hall: We should buy this huge RV and write “Fast as Lightning” on it!

Anderson: We could play at Jiffy Lube [Live] or Merriweather [Post Pavillion].

Do you guys want to play one more song so we can get a few more pictures?

Peery: I kind of have a birthday party to go to. █

Anderson: I like Morgan Freeman [laughter]. Oh, musicians? I like Jared Leto. He’s not only a musician, he’s an actor, too.

Martin: I like Queen and Pink Floyd.

Peery: I haven’t had any real inspiration. I just wanted to play the drums. Weezer is my favorite band.

Hall: I like Gwen Stefani from No Doubt, because she has a lot of character. I think we all have a lot of character!

Spitzer: I like Red Hot Chili Peppers.

I like Weezer. I like Jack Johnson. I like Jack White in the White Stripes. I also like Michael Jackson.

WKIND

Do you guys have favorite musicians and influences?

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HOOD

Brandon Hardesty

Jennifer Van Meter-White

Pj Thomas

Jennifer Van Meter-White, Meg Murray, Jenn Reichwein Byrne, Angie Miller, Pj Thomas

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Carolyn Krohn-Moyer

Sean O'Neil

Starbelly

Swamp Candy

of SONGS

SUPPORT

Pete Reichwein

By Patty Speakman Hamsher Photos by Tami Huber

Meg Murray

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Y

for benefit concerts around town. People such as Larry Freed and Larry Griffin would bring musicians together to raise funds for service organizations—such as Help and We Care and Friends— for people who were knocked down by unexpected life events.

When a good friend lost his apartment to a fire and another songwriter was diagnosed with progressed Lyme disease, McConville and other players rallied to put together benefit fundraisers.

“Then it really hit me,” he says.

“These musicians are constantly donating their time for these benefits, but who is taking care of them?”

From that brainstorm, the Annapolis Musicians Fund for Musicians (AMFM) was born.

As McConville describes it, the idea was to create something that could be of immediate help to musicians who were often living on the razor’s edge.

Losing gigs when Pj Thomas, Sean O'Neil, Matt McConville, Brian Cahalan, Jack Morkan, Ben Grant (not pictured) Photos by Joe Karr they get sick or when a restaurant cuts back on its live McConville became downtown Annapolis. Behind the music funds can be devastating to instrumental in creating scenes is an artistically thriving an artist. an Annapolis songwriters’ community, rich with musicians Martha Jacobs, a local certified performance series called and songwriters. Many of them public accountant, was paramount Homemade Wine. It brought are self-employed—living gigin navigating the hurdles and together three or four musicians to-gig and musical endeavor-toInternal Revenue Service musical endeavor—and rely on the during a night to play to an attentive audience. Song lyrics and requirements to secure nonprofit regularity of bars and restaurants status for AMFM. With the help subtle musical presentation were and their patrons to welcome of original board members Meg not lost to a loud party scene. them back and keep them Murray, Christian Elkington, Along with many other financially afloat.

Sean O’Neill, and Jim Cullen, the Annapolis musicians, McConville Matt McConville has been part organization was off and running. found himself playing routinely of the Annapolis music scene ou’re out for dinner, the food is good, and the company is entertaining. A oneman band is setting up.

Quietly plucked notes soon turn into songs, and before long the mood in the room is uplifted—by the music.

On any given day, you can find live music playing somewhere in

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since the early 1990s. When the songwriter landed here from the Pittsburgh area, he was humbled by the depth of talent he saw and heard. He began playing professionally and meeting other musicians within the community.

At the time, the music scene was dominated by cover bands playing in a party atmosphere, and there was no venue for original music.

HOOD

In its first five years, AMFM operated mostly as a lost gig fundraiser, giving musicians up to $150 for each gig that was cancelled for unexpected reasons. Now, nearly nine years later, it also operates a catastrophic event fund. Last year, it gave more than $40,000 to hardworking musicians who are continuously giving back to and enhancing local businesses and the community.

Through its educational outreach fund, AMFM gives money annually to Creating Communities, a nonprofit organization, and operates a scholarship fund to cover some of the costs for students studying at a music school. It also pays for private lessons for some children in middle school who are eager to learn an instrument.

AMFM’s effectiveness is due to its successful fundraising. At its cornerstone are the annual Christmas shows, which seem to sell out faster than each previous year. Gathering singers and songwriters from the Homemade Wine series and beyond, AMFM presents two evenings of artists performing Christmas songs at Rams Head On Stage. Other fundraising concerts include an “In the Vein of ” series, in which musicians play a cover song from a chosen artist, such as Tom Petty or Led Zeppelin, and then perform an original song that was inspired by that artist. In addition, the annual benefit street festival Eastport a Rockin’ has named AMFM as one of its beneficiaries in recent years.

McConville currently serves as AMFM’s board president. He is joined by Sean O’Neill, Jack Morkon, PJ Thomas, Brian Cahalan, and Ben Grant. They do what they can to keep artists on their feet and playing music, not only for the good of the Annapolis community, but also for the love of live music. █

www.AMFM.com Kajun Kelley

Eric Bouchard

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The Music

Connection

I

By Tom Levine Color photos by John Bildahl

f a band plays to an empty room, does it make a sound? Larry Freed started the publication Annapolis Music Scene (AMS) in 1989 because he was afraid it wouldn’t make a sound—or at least not for long. He is not a man who likes silence. A drummer and avid music fan, he knew that if there was no audience, there would be no music. When he moved to Annapolis in the early 1980s, he quickly discovered that he was in a town where you could go to a bar on any given night and hear great live music. Thanks to Freed, you still can.

By the late 1980s, Freed started seeing audiences dwindle at local bars and clubs.

Being a rational man, he knew that if the crowds kept shrinking, the bar owners would soon lose interest in hiring bands. He didn’t care to watch local live music die a slow death, and became a bit irrational in how he decided to solve this problem.. “[I] quit the day job with a lot of hope and a little bank account,” he recalls, and he started AMS. And as if that wasn’t enough, he dragged a half-dozen friends into the enterprise.

If you received a copy of AMS, it was because Freed had cornered you in a bar and got you to sign on to the mailing list. The first issue came off the presses in February 1989, and was mailed out to 2,000 people. What they got was a newsletter that, as Freed wrote in the first issue, was dedicated to “Keeping the Music Alive” in the Annapolis Area.

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Above: Radio DJ icon Damian Einstein with Larry Freed Left: Bluesman Bill Dicey with Larry Freed on drums

One of AMS’ first hires was Greg Allen, who contributed two monthly columns: “Turn it Up” reviewed local bands and “Buried Treasures” shared Allen’s passion for collecting records. He remembers AMS being a bit jagged around the edges. He wrote and submitted his columns in longhand, never before deadline. He left it to others to quickly interpret and transcribe his work. By the time AMS went to print, words were often scrambled, sentences didn’t always make sense, and he couldn’t have cared less.

He was writing about rock and roll, and if he and Freed actually had job descriptions, the first line would have read, “Must be willing to go to bars and listen to live music seven nights a week.”

The response after the first issue surprised Freed. “It was as if I poked a little hole in the ground, and all of a sudden, a geyser of oil came flowing out,” he says. Circulation soon grew to 10,000. AMS Command Performances, which featured five local bands for five dollars, were drawing sellout

crowds downtown. Freed and company presented singer/songwriter showcases and Have You Heard nights featuring bands from Baltimore and the District of Columbia.

For Freed, this endeavor was all about connectedness. The bands got to know each other and hear each other’s music while the bars started filling up again. Rock and roll was growing in Annapolis, and if Freed didn’t plant the garden, he sure gave its parched soil a big drink of water. Dean Rosenthal, whose fortieth anniversary in the music business was recently celebrated with a sold-out show at Rams Head On Stage, knows how much Freed did for the local music scene. “A lot of people talked about what they were going to do for the music scene, but Larry was the one who actually did it,” he says.

Freed hadn’t really started AMS to support the musicians. He knew that the music scene lived and died with the fans; their connectedness mattered more—to the musicians and to each other. Freed knew that people wanted to be part of a scene, hang out with their

Dean Rosenthal Celebration featuring (from left) Jeff Bober, Linwood Taylor, Clark Matthews (drummer), Steve Cyphers (percussionist), Dean Rosenthal, John Previti (bassist), Paul Reed Smith, Kelly Bell, and Mark Wenner

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by 2000, with Becky Cooper-Rusteberg as publisher, the magazine became Chesapeake Music Guide (CMG). It had a long run before succumbing to the recession in 2008.

So why, over 25 years after Freed started AMS, should this old story matter?

Because it still matters. If you aren’t going out to hear live music because you just don’t like music, that’s fine. But if you do like music, even just a little, why wouldn’t you go out for a listen? Annapolis has nurtured a new generation of musicians and fans who play and sing and dance alongside people who were doing this before AMS was born. The scene has evolved, but it’s still the same. It’s joyful and raucous and alive enough that you can lean against a wall in a local club and feel it in your spine and smile while saying thank you to Larry Freed for knowing that it shouldn’t fade away. As Danny and the Juniors told us in the 1950s, and Neil Young reminded us in the 1980s, rock and roll is here to stay. █

Below: The original staff of The Annapolis Music Scene (from left) Kathy Teater ("General Manager"), Greg Allen ("Recording Director"), Susan Marble ("Choreographer"), Larry Freed ("Conductor"), Janet Ducar ("Set Design"), Chip Tait ("Stage Manager"), Christopher "Pip" Pippig ("Promoter")

Much loved - and missed local musician Craig Carr

Below: An AMS Command Performance Showcase featuring a Who's Who of Annapolis music talent, including Mack Bailey, John Van Dyke, Kevin Brooks, Dave Glaser, Mark Desrochers, Jeff Crowder, and Jay Turner along with the staff of the Annapolis Music Scene Magazine

AGO

friends, feel the beat of live music, and know that they were part of something special, experiencing a unique moment Art provides an emotional connection to the artist. When you look at a great painting or read a good book, you can feel a part of what the artist felt while creating it. But the finished product is much like a recording—it memorializes a moment, the time when the brush hits canvas or words fly off the keyboard.

Live music brings us face-to-face with its creation, and one of its great pleasures is that you and your friends hear something that never happens in the same way again.

Back in a time before email, before Facebook, and before you could tap your phone to find out who was playing at Armadillo’s or Rams Head Tavern—a time when going viral was never a good thing—AMS gave Annapolis all of that information the old-fashioned way, with paper and ink, staples, handwritten mailing lists, and mail that required a stamp and a trip to the post office.

Freed turned over the reins of AMS by 1991 and wrote his last column in 1993.

Allen wrote his last a few years later, and

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Conceive

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Collaborate

Lord Huron at St. Anne's Church

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Celebrate