Walking through Fells Point, I recently popped into the Frederick Douglass-Isaac Myers Maritime Museum and checked out Stillness in Movement, an exhibit of Jim Condron paintings. Condron specializes in large oils of nature scenes, and a few of those pieces are on display. But the real gems here are his much smaller, more evocative paintings of harbor scenes just beyond the museum's walls.

Making the most of an impressionistic style, Condron, not surprisingly, captures the landscape's natural splendor, but he also finds beauty in its industrial elements. He makes you pause and refocus on a familiar environment, which he's infused with a distinctive aura and warmth. And that moment of stillness—the flash of recognition and pensive reappraisal—is what makes Condron's work so moving and worthwhile.

The exhibition runs through August 14.

Dan Fesperman, an ex-foreign correspondent for The Sun, sharpens his storytelling acumen to cut through various global issues in his latest thriller, Layover in Dubai. As usual, it's set in some exotic, chaotic locale, and Dubai proves to be an ideal spot for excess, intrigue, and nefarious corporate shenanigans.

Sam Keller, a big pharma auditor, accompanies a co-worker on a business trip and stumbles unwittingly into a prostitution ring run by the Russian mob. The coworker turns up dead, and, in short order, Keller becomes a wanted man, his support network crumbles, and he's set adrift in a boomtown growing faster than a time-lapse photograph. He lands in the household of a traditional family that includes (of course!) a beautiful young woman chafing at the constraints of Islamic conservatism and her strict father, a local policeman.

Fesperman builds tension and contrast with various subplots that buttress the overall story, and he deftly weaves a looming countdown into the tale for added suspense, as well as snippets of Dostoevsky for literary cachet. And Fesperman gets extra credit for not shying from the harsh conditions faced by Dubai's migrant labor force, an issue that usually gets lost, or conveniently forgotten, amidst the glitzy sprawl.

(This review appears in the July issue of Baltimore.)

Today's Whartscape features a jaw-dropping lineup of indie bands, most of them local. Starting at 4 pm, you can catch Thank You, Double Dagger, Ponytail, the Dan Deacon Ensemble, No Age, Arab on Radar, and Lightning Bolt. It's outside Current Gallery, at 421 Howard Street. Hurry! And this figures to be Whartscape's final year.

Baltimore native Natalie Standiford, author of How to Say Goodbye in Robot, signed books for fans this evening at Delaware's Bethany Beach Books. Robot is the best non-wizard kids book to come down the pike in quite some time. My 12-year-old daughter, a voracious reader, considers it one of her favorite books, and I'm a fan, too.

Standiford told me her next book, Confessions of the Sullivan Sisters—due out in September—is "nothing like Robot."

No matter—we eagerly await its release.

How to Say Goodbye in Robot is an evocative, moody, and thoroughly delightful young adult novel about a couple of offbeat teens finding each other, and themselves in the process. Beatrice and Jonah aren't vampires or wizards. They're just kids—in Baltimore, it turns out—forging a deep friendship characterized by empathy and an appreciation for benign escapism, personal eccentricity, and late night radio.

There's some profanity and underage drinking in Natalie Standiford's story, but her characters aren't defined by those things, just as they aren't defined by the gossip, cliques, and family tragedies in their midst. They seem above such things, because what they're experiencing is actually an unspoken love for one another. Standiford, to her great credit, resists romantic clichés and a pat ending in favor of something more complex, nuanced, and heart tugging.

Beatrice and Jonah's excursion to Ocean City makes the book an even better "beach read," and Standiford gets extra credit for her website's fab "mystery page," which spotlights sights and sounds that are mentioned in the book.

Atticus.

Scout.

Jem.

Dill.

Boo.

Yes.

Baltimore editorial interns Elizabeth Laseter and Megan Richards had never been to Artscape before. We encouraged them to go and write up their thoughts on what has become the largest free, public arts festival in the country.

Elizabeth Laseter:

After hearing so much about Artscape, I finally had the chance to attend this past weekend—and I wasn’t disappointed. What I loved most about Artscape was its appeal to all ages and the enthusiasm for Baltimore it projected.

Along the median of Mount Royal Avenue was one of my favorite sights, an exhibit called “Here, There, Anywhere.” Works by 26 different artists, many from cities in Maryland, were featured. Each artist received a 40 inch, high and 24 inch wide white pedestal, on which they could create anything they imagined. I especially liked the “Orange Puff,” which consisted of bright orange and yellow stuffed pillows stacked on top of each other. I also admired a dolphin sculpture crafted entirely from grocery store bags.

A giant baseball game peanut (almost 6 feet tall!) caught my eye, too. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was supposed to mean, but I liked it. Another sculpture, where the artist had placed sheets of mirrors together at different levels, resulted in a distorted perspective of the world around me. I took some crazy photos of my reflection in the mirrors.

I watched a street performer on a flaming skateboard jump over three terrified men lying on the ground, took a turn on a tire swing, made a rocket-shaped hat out of construction paper and duct tape, and even got a free beach ball. I can’t forget the array of funkily decorated cars (including one with mannequin parts all over it). And most deliciously, were the food vendors: I saw some big Baltimore names, like Taharka Brothers Ice Cream and Stuggy’s Old Fashioned Hot Dogs and Sausages. I purchased a pulled pork sandwich from a vendor selling “South Carolina BBQ,” unable to resist the pull of my Southern roots. (I grew up in North Carolina.) However, I am not even sure if this pork could really qualify as BBQ. It was overpoweringly spicy, too skimpy with its vinegar base, and the bun was soggy. Clearly, this was a disastrous sandwich. Next time, I’ll go with Stuggy’s.

Sandwich catastrophe aside, I loved running around the festival with my friends, seeing and experiencing as much as I could. From wacky ornamented automobiles to a giant baseball peanut (yes, this was art!), Artscape captured Baltimore and the simple pleasure of imagination and fun.

Megan Richards:

I have never been to a festival or street fair where I was asked to throw a potato at a target in order to pie a man in the face. Well, I had never been to one, until I went to Artscape. As a first-time Artscape attendee I expected to hear some live music, view sculptures and paintings by MICA students, and maybe browse the different vendors to shop for handmade jewelry. No big deal. But Artscape exceeded my expectations. 

I have never seen art, music, and creativity bond such a variety of different types of people: from shirtless frat boys to dreadlocked hula-hooping women, everyone seemed to get along famously making the festival a positive representation of the proud loyalty Baltimoreans feel towards their city. The rich history and culture is often overlooked by city-outsiders, but the festival truly demonstrated the artistic bounty Baltimore has to offer.                                                           

One mural, created by a few MICA students, stood out to me: Painted on four panels of plywood, the mural captured Baltimore trademarks like the Domino sugar sign, a Baltimore Hon, The Hippodrome, and Lexington Market. Baltimore singer-songwriter Caleb Stine sat beside the giant mural, and informed me that it had been inspired by the Baltimore Song Project, which he and hip-hop artist Saleem Heggins collaborated on to create a city song. The musical piece, in turn, inspired the MICA students. I was struck by the images of the different Baltimore communities. The “Baltimore Hon” panel resonated with me and made me smile, as Hampden is one of my favorite hoods. The other communities looked good, too, though, and the mural made me want to visit them.                               

One of my favorite things about Artscape was the amount of hands-on activities it offered. Kids could go to the Target center where they had the opportunity make their own wind chimes and play with Legos. Adults and kids alike could create their own comic strips, and hang their comics alongside one another on a large glass-plane wall.  The comics, many impressively illustrated with cleverly crafted stories, could be enjoyed by other festival-goers. If getting physical is what you enjoy, then you may have preferred the hand-painted skateboarding ramp, where skaters of all levels weren’t afraid to make fools of themselves while performing jumps and board tricks. The interactive games and creative opportunities made the festival vibe more personal, encouraging Baltimoreans to share and express their creativity, not merely marvel at the imaginings of others.

 I also saw a live, improv air guitar performance atop a skull-headed vehicle, sampled enough macaroni and cheese and chocolate cereal bars to last me a lifetime, and heard the Cold War kids play. I particularly liked seeing attendees break into dance when they recognized a favorite song.

 You didn’t have to be a diehard art-lover to enjoy the festival atmosphere and optimism of the city. Artscape really enabled me to appreciate the local art, but it also made me feel really fortunate to be living in a city where the people aren’t afraid to scream loudly and proudly in the name of Bawlmore.

Be sure to snag one of the nifty Andy Warhol fans being given away by the BMA at Artscape. It'll certainly come in handy, with temps hovering around 100 degrees. And if it doesn't totally beat the heat, at least you'll look cool.

Baltimore Club producers Aaron LaCrate and Debonair Samir have been awarded platinum records by the British Phonographic Industry for their contribution to Dizzee Rascal's hit UK CD, Tongue n' Cheek.

The disc hit #5 on the pop chart, topped the R&B chart, and turned out to be Rascal's best-selling effort to date.

LaCrate and Samir produced "Road Rage," a track The Times of London called "sublime" and the BBC likened to "a British urban thriller."

"It's the first ever platinum plaque for Baltimore Club music," says LaCrate, "and it's even more exciting that we have taken the genre international."

Samir is currently working on a disc of his own, Samir's Revenge, and LaCrate is prepping Highlandtown: Ignorant Art for release on his Milkcrate label.

[photo: Aaron LaCrate]

Early on, Patti Smith pulls the reader into this intriguing memoir, which chronicles her relationship with artist Robert Mapplethorpe....

It was the summer Coltrane died. The summer of "Crystal Ships." Flower children raised their empty arms and China exploded the H-bomb. Jimi Hendrix set his guitar in flames in Monterey. AM radio played "Ode to Billie Joe." There were riots in Newark, Milwaukee, and Detroit. It was the summer of Elvira Madigan, the summer of love. And in this shifting, inhospitable atmosphere, a chance encounter changed the course of my life.

It was the summer I met Robert Mapplethorpe.

It's the end of chapter one, and I'm hooked.

Smith goes on to give a thorough and loving account of her time with Mapplethorpe, weaving intimate details into an absorbing history of the 1960s/1970s New York art scene. Smith's memories of the likes of Jim Carroll, Harry Smith, and Sam Shepard—at legendary locales such as the Chelsea Hotel and Max's Kansas City—are similarly touching and nod to the zeitgeist of those heady times. To her credit, Smith doesn't succumb to myth-making and instead focuses on the complexities of her friendship with Mapplethorpe, their devotion to one another, and the daily grind of the "starving artist" reality.

Just Kids is a welcome reminder that before they were icons, Smith and Mapplethorpe struggled to find and make their way in the world. As its title implies, the book is essentially about a maturation process, both artistic and personal. And these kids were better than all right—they were driven to influence not just American culture, but also each other.