Last Friday, RiverArts celebrated Hispanic Heritage Month with Artistry of the Latin American Diaspora, a gallery event alive with color, music, and conversation featuring two beloved local artists: painter and musician Fredy Granillo and fine furniture maker Bob Ortiz, who shared stories of their creative journeys and how they sought to braid their heritage with the aesthetic of American culture.

The event was hosted by Guy Hutchison, president of the RiverArts board, who opened the evening with a reflection on the power of connection.

“Talking about human diversity can feel fraught these days,” Hutchison began. “But in my experience, when you walk with someone and listen deeply to their story, you discover the interconnections that bind us—like a thousand trees whose roots are entangled in common ground.” He then read a poem by the Salvadoran poet Roque Dalton: “I believe the world is beautiful, and that art, like bread, is for everyone… and that my veins don’t end in me, but in the unanimous blood of those who struggle for life.”

It was an apt invocation. What followed was an informal talk about weaving of lives, heritage, and aesthetic.

Ortiz reflected on growing up as the only Puerto Rican family in a working-class Irish Catholic neighborhood. “If you’d asked me ten years ago how my heritage shaped my work, I might’ve been stumped,” he said. “Like a lot of first-generation kids, I just wanted to fit in. I wanted Coca-Cola and English, not Spanish and arroz con gandules.”

As he matured, though, he began seeking the culture he once pushed away. “I’ve spent my life walking in two worlds, trying to find where I belong—as an artist, as a craftsman, as someone between supposed opposites.” This search drew him toward Shaker furniture and the aesthetics of Asia, which, like his own roots, prize simplicity and quiet strength.

Ortiz described his shop as not just a workplace but a gathering place: “I wanted to create a space where you don’t have to buy anything to belong—where you can just walk in and feel like you’re part of something.” For him, relationships are as central as craft: “The wood is sensual, yes—but what keeps me going is the relationships that come from the work.”

Granillo, by contrast, came of age amid the turbulence of El Salvador’s civil war. “I was born in 1982,” he said. “My father was in the army. My mother cleaned houses. We moved constantly. Soldiers on one side of the street, revolutionaries on the other. I remember running all the time.”

He spoke of mango trees, of friends scattered by violence, of fragmented memories. “When I paint now, I’m not thinking of those times directly,” he said. “But they’re inside me. My life was turbulence. Painting came when I finally found peace, here, in Chestertown.”

Granillo’s work, bright and open to interpretation, resonates far beyond the Eastern Shore. Visitors from Syria, Brazil, and across Latin America have stood before his mural on Ortiz’s shop and said, That looks like home. “I love that,” Granillo said. “I’m not trying to paint ‘El Salvador.’ I’m trying to offer color and balance—Latin American expression—in a place that needs it.”

Granillo is also an accomplished potter and painter of hand-crafted Talavera ceramics whose bright lines reflect his large paintings of El Salvadorian neighborhoods. His ceramaic masterpieces, along with his paintings were on display at RiverArts.

What threads Ortiz and Granillo together is more than heritage, it is mentorship, trust, and affection. When Granillo first arrived in Chestertown, Ortiz gave him a key to his shop and encouragement to keep creating. “He pushed me,” Granillo said. “First a neighbor, then a friend, then like a father.”

“I’ve been lifted by others’ kindness all my life. It feels right to pass that on,” Ortiz said.

Hutchison closed the evening by noting how our culture often tries to put people in boxes, even well-meaning boxes like “Latin American Heritage.” But the conversation had shown something else: identity as process, not category. “Latin America isn’t one thing,” Granillo added. “Even for me, it’s complicated. Each country, each person, so different.”

And yet, through their work and their friendship, Granillo and Ortiz have created something beautifully simple: a space where difference becomes connection, and where art, like bread, is for everyone.

The exhibit will be on display until Sept. 27, with a performance by multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Verny Varela on Sept. 26.

More about RiverArts may be found here.

Rock Hall Mayor James Cook says the small bayside town is experiencing a surge of new businesses, infrastructure improvements, and renewed energy on its Main Street.

“In just this year alone, there are four new businesses on Main Street, with countless more across town,” Cook said in an interview this week. “People are telling me, ‘Main Street feels alive again,’ and I haven’t heard that in decades.”

Among the newcomers are Rock Hall Brewing Company, which has quickly become a Main Street draw, and a new crepe café founded by a young entrepreneur, Aiden. Cook said he was struck by the spirit behind the venture: “He told me, ‘I just got really passionate about cooking, and I decided I like crepes, and I wanted to share it with people.’ That is so beautiful—and for him to choose Rock Hall, because he felt it was open to different things, says a lot about this community.”

Cook credits the Greater Rock Hall Business Association and Rock Hall Main Street for helping revitalize storefronts through nearly $1 million in grant funding over the past three years. “They’ve brought in façade grants and building improvement grants that make the big lifts possible for the average person with a great idea,” he said.

But Cook emphasized that the town’s renewal extends beyond business openings. “We had a $60–70 million infrastructure challenge when I came in,” he said. “Since then, we’ve installed new water filtration systems, replaced mains, and secured funding for a $32 million wastewater treatment plant. Close to $28 million of that is grant money—something Rock Hall never leveraged before.”

Looking ahead, Cook sees two major challenges: dredging the town’s harbor and ensuring Rock Hall remains affordable for year-round residents.

“The harbor is Rock Hall’s lifeblood, but the Army Corps of Engineers cut us out of its latest dredging project,” Cook explained. “We don’t have jurisdiction, but we do have a cultural say. We’ve been pressing to stay at the table—it’s vital for our economy, for our watermen, and for recreation.”

Housing is another pressing issue. Nearly a third of Rock Hall’s housing stock is made up of second homes or short-term rentals. “That’s a huge impediment to keeping younger people here,” Cook said. To address it, the town recently legalized accessory dwelling units for full-time rental, reduced restrictions on Main Street apartments, and opened zoning for manufactured homes.

“If you want to live in Rock Hall, there should be opportunity for you,” Cook said. “A town can’t just be its businesses and its visitors—it has to be the people who live here day in and day out. That’s what makes Rock Hall special.”

Cook added with a smile: “I’m very passionate about this place. I love Rock Hall.”

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One of the Spy’s favorite summertime engagements is with Compass Regional Hospice’s Camp New Dawn, a grief retreat for children held annually at Camp Pecometh near Centreville. In past summers, we have attended daily activities and grief workshops but this summer we wanted to take part in the commencement that included the children and their family members. The video includes Camp New Dawn Director Rhonda Knotts, Counselor Georgia Wilkerson, Camp Coach/Mentor Jane Anthony, and Assistant Director Mark Wade, a few of those who honored the children who attended.

For 31 summers, Camp New Dawn has welcomed grieving children, teens, and families from across the Mid-Shore to a retreat where they can share loss, build coping skills, and discover they are not alone. The four-day, three-night camp, hosted by Compass Regional Hospice, has become a lifeline for families navigating the isolating experience of grief.

“Most of us don’t talk about our grief in everyday life,” said Camp Director Rhonda Knotts. “Here, you don’t have to explain why you feel the way you do. Just being with others who are grieving makes the world a little brighter.”

Each day at Camp New Dawn blends activities, workshops, and group sessions that help campers identify and express their grief. This year’s program included testimony from a 19-year-old who lost her mother at 12 and went on to publish a book of poetry about her loss. “The kids were in awe,” Knotts recalled. “Kids listen to kids.”

From there, campers joined in centering exercises with singing bowls and superhero yoga stances before breaking into groups to discuss coping skills. “You can’t expect anyone—let alone kids—to sit in a support group for 90 minutes straight,” Knotts said. “So we create variety: inspiration, movement, conversation. It’s about meeting them where they are.”

The camp’s success depends on its volunteers and the generosity of the community. Donations range from art supplies and drinks to home-cooked meals. One supporter provided pounds of homemade macaroni and cheese for a Friday night dinner, “because kids love mac and cheese,” Knotts said with a smile.

That generosity extends beyond supplies. Nearly one-third of this year’s adult “buddies”—volunteers who are paired one-on-one with a camper—were once campers themselves. Others return year after year, transformed by the experience. “Our hope is that volunteers leave wanting to shout it from the rooftops,” Knotts said.

Georgia Wilkerson, a longtime Compass hospice nurse, has volunteered at Camp New Dawn for more than 20 years. Today, she helps lead grief groups.

“Showing up is the hardest part,” she said. “Once they’re here, we praise their courage and then guide them through activities that give language to what they’re feeling. A tummy ache, a headache—it might be grief. We help them connect the dots.”

For some children, words aren’t enough, so counselors use art, music, and color to help them express feelings. “What color is your grief?” Wilkerson might ask. “Sometimes that opens the door.”

Since its founding in 1994, Camp New Dawn has remained central to Compass’s mission. Knotts said the organization’s leadership is committed to its future. “Not every hospice has the resources to run something like this,” she said. “But our CEO told me recently: as far as she’s concerned, we’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Camp New Dawn never dries up.”

For the hundreds who have passed through its doors, the camp offers more than activities and meals. It offers connection, resilience, and hope. As Knotts put it: “Grief is universal. But when you share it, healing becomes possible.”

For more about Compass Region Hospice, go here.