It was family members out-of-state who were the ones to tell Maria Gabriela Aldana that the Francis Scott Key Bridge, in her own city, had collapsed. Like many others in Baltimore, she received worried messages from them checking to see if she was safe. As she opened their texts, she was dumbfounded.
Eventually, the bilingual community artist was able to view footage of the early-morning spectacle — the now infamous Dali container ship colliding with the Key Bridge, razing one of its main piers and sending pieces of the landmark tumbling into the Patapsco River.
The crash claimed the lives of six construction workers: Miguel Ángel Luna González, Alejandro Hernández Fuentes, Dorlian Ronial Castillo Cabrera, José Mynor López, Maynor Yasir Suazo-Sandoval, and Carlos Daniel Hernández.
Julio Cervantes Suarez, another worker in that crew, miraculously survived the fall, forced his way out of his car, and found refuge on a piece of wreckage before he was rescued from the water with injuries. Damon Davis, a highway inspector, was able to reach a surviving span of the bridge as the ground fell away behind him.
Until very recently, Aldana couldn’t watch those videos.
“I’m a very emotional person and immediately felt the pain of losing my Latin American brothers,” she said.
“I didn’t want to be alone watching something so traumatic; seeing the last lights flickering across the bridge of those who almost could have fallen, seeing the tiny trucks with husbands, fathers, and brothers inside of them, imagining what the sole survivor must have seen as he fought to stay alive…I just wanted to focus on a project and find out the details of what was happening later.”
Aldana — also a community organizer, folklorist, oral historian, and educator — is the cofounding director of Art of Solidarity, a nonprofit organization of professional, community-focused artists dedicated to social justice. Born in Nicaragua and raised in Miami, she’s called Baltimore home for 25 years.
Within a month, Aldana found the project she was looking for.
Or rather, the right project found its way to her.
In April, she answered a call from Catalina Rodriguez-Lima, director of the Mayor’s Office of Immigrant Affairs. The Baltimore Museum of Industry was looking for an artist to gather stories for a set of exhibitions on the tragedy and contacted the mayor’s office in search of local candidates. She saw it as a calling from God.
“I thought it would be a beautiful opportunity,” Aldana said.“I’ve always had a tremendous love of learning, and I particularly love learning from firsthand accounts. There’s nothing like it.”
Aldana’s storytelling is integral to two forthcoming BMI exhibits. Expected to debut as soon as May 2027 — roughly three years after the horrific collapse — two exhibits, one temporary and one long-term, will explore the sudden impact of the tragedy while honoring the city’s Spanish-speaking and Latin American communities. Still in development, they aim to foster visitor discussions and reflections on a devastating piece of local history, expanding on the museum’s “Echoes from the Key Bridge” oral history project.
Bilingual oral histories and videos collected by Aldana of social workers, local business owners, longshoremen, loved ones of the six victims and others will accompany photographs, artwork, and artifacts pertinent to the Key Bridge. The exhibits are preceded by a temporary mural installation courtesy of Texas-based artist Roberto Marquez.
On loan to the museum from the artist and originally located on Fort Armistead Road where the Key Bridge once stood, the colorful mural “became an impromptu memorial to the men who died,” said the BMI’s executive director Anita Kassof. Two pieces of Marquez’ sentimental work of art sit in the BMI’s classroom, depicting imagery of wreckage, recognizable debris from the Key bridge, red painted-dipped handprints, and a series of handwritten notes. “Be not Afraid. I love you,” one note reads. “Forever in our memories,” begins another.
While honoring the fallen workers, Kassof hopes the two exhibits will teach visitors new things about the Key Bridge, and about the Port of Baltimore.
“I think we realized that we had a moment of opportunity, in that the eyes of the world were focused on the Port of Baltimore,” said Kassof of the days and weeks after the bridge collapse.
“Baltimore is who we are because of the existence of a deep water port,” Kassof continued. “Baltimore sprung up as an industrial powerhouse, in large measure, because of the existence of the port.”
To cultivate stories explaining the port, the Key Bridge, its collapse, and the people affected, the BMI team knew they had to hire the right storyteller.
“So much of the story revolves around the fact that many of those men on the bridge were immigrants,” Kassof said.
“They were living and working what is, in many ways, a typical experience for immigrants who come in and do that middle-of-the night work that nobody else wants to do. We wanted to honor that,” Kassof said. “And we were lucky enough to find Maria.”
“So much of the story revolves around the fact that many of those men on the bridge were immigrants,” Kassof said. “They were living and working what is, in many ways, a typical experience for immigrants who come in and do that middle-of-the night work that nobody else wants to do. We wanted to honor that.”
Working closely with the BMI’s collections team, collections manager Curtis Durham and archives manager Maggi Marzolf, Aldana has contributed 32 oral histories and videos related to the bridge collapse so far. Her goal is to retell the story of the bridge collapse from the perspective of those impacted the most, hopefully laying the foundation for an uptick — and improvements — in community relationships.
“People use the word resiliency a lot,” Aldana said. “That doesn’t come across to me in these oral histories.”
“I heard a lot of stories about surviving; mothers with children, grandchildren, people who lost their best friend, their business partner, their husband, or their spiritual partner. And in losing that person, you’re still responsible for others, or you’re now working more than you were before to make ends meet.”
“People use the word resiliency a lot,” Aldana said. “That doesn’t come across to me in these oral histories.”
“I heard a lot of stories about surviving; mothers with children, grandchildren, people who lost their best friend, their business partner, their husband, or their spiritual partner. And in losing that person, you’re still responsible for others, or you’re now working more than you were before to make ends meet.”
One of the most difficult aspects of the experience, besides finding participants, was getting people on the phone.
“When you tell your story, it is re-traumatizing because you are sharing a part of yourself that you probably think about on a daily basis, or throughout the whole day, and then again the next day. You want to make sure you get it right, because you don’t want to do it again,” she explained.
It was key for Aldana to create a safe and comfortable environment for interview participants, and that meant being intentional about giving them agency, something she feels is essential to honoring subjects. Part of this meant working with the BMI’s collections team on media release forms, allowing subjects to control what ends up being shared, and how.
“There’s no right way to tell your story,” she said.
“We can pause. We can skip questions. We can edit this when we’re done. We can restrict access to it. We can also eliminate names.Whatever you need to feel the most comfortable with sharing your story.”
Drawing from the oral history training she received at the Maryland Institute College of Art and Baltimore Racial Justice Action, an anti-racist, anti-oppression organization, Aldana was determined to engage in active listening while interviewing subjects. In doing so, she takes after her parents and grandparents, who ingrained in her the importance of fully engaging when an elder is speaking.
“I’m stepping into someone’s life, and in that process, I’m trying to metaphorically hold their hand because that’s all you can do,” she said.
“I’m stepping into someone’s life, and in that process, I’m trying to metaphorically hold their hand because that’s all you can do.”
Maria Gabriela Aldana, cofounding director of Art of Solidarity
“You can listen, you can hold space for that person, and you can honor the agreements that you had by sharing their story with the same levels of love, grace, and thoughtfulness [as] others…It’s kind of like an orb around them to say, ‘This is difficult. I see you pushing through boundaries and pushing through fear to say something important.’”
At the heart of her work on this project is a mission to dismantle harmful narratives related to her culture.
“Latin Americans are misrepresented and pushed into one category,” she said.
“We do not have enough educational programs about who we are. There are immeasurable nuances, overlaps, and yet significantly distinguishing characteristics to our languages, foods, customs, histories, and relationships to the USA.”
Aldana takes great pride in sharing stories of her people, who faced struggle and survival in the wake of monumental loss.
“I hope that, at the end of the day, we don’t forget these six victims who lost their lives [doing] invisible jobs. Through these stories, we can honor them and keep them in mind when we think about who was impacted the most.”
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