I grew up outside of Baltimore — 40 miles south, to be exact. Yet lately this city has felt like my ancestral home. Moving here to work for The Banner feels like a call to explore my roots.

My mother named me after her maternal grandfather, Tennyson Carter — a Renaissance man in every sense who spent his entire life in West Baltimore, walking these streets and leaving his mark. He died two years before I was born, so we never met, but I’ve been told his spirit lives on in me.

Shortly after I began writing The Banner’s morning newsletter, I asked our readers for ways to trace my historical ties to the region. The response was overwhelming. Suggestions ranged from visiting local historical societies to using online tools like Ancestry.com and diving into The Baltimore Sun and Afro-American newspaper archives.

I decided to do just that and discovered something remarkable — a shared experience that connects me to my namesake.

Like me, Tennyson Carter was an artist, and while I am just moving to Baltimore for the first time, I visited extended family throughout my childhood.

In May 1947, just before his thirtieth birthday, his work was featured in a Maryland Institute exhibit showcasing paintings by local merchant marines.

A Baltimore Sun article about that exhibit read, “Although there might seem little connection between the provisioning department of a ship and modernism, two of the other more fanciful offerings are by a cook, Tennyson Carter, who ‘picked up drawing as a kid.’ ”

I also stumbled upon a 1949 article in the Afro-American highlighting one of his prize-winning abstract paintings — a cat— on display at the Baltimore Museum of Art. My great-aunt says he was a big fan of Salvador Dalí, which may have inspired his imaginative style. It resonates deeply with me as an artist, since I also draw much inspiration from Surrealist influences.

I couldn’t help but feel swept up by gratitude for this discovery. I often wonder what my ancestors were doing in their 20s and 30s, and it’s astonishing to learn that someone I never met shares so much with me; the synchronicities seem uncanny.

I’m 30 and preparing for my first art exhibit this May at a small Camden, New Jersey, gallery. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that I’m on a path similar to the man whose name and spirit I embody.

What I found especially encouraging was that he never had formal training and worked jobs throughout his life — yet major institutions still recognized him. I’ve sometimes wrestled with imposter syndrome as an artist, especially since I don’t create art full-time. But realizing that my great-grandfather also balanced multiple occupations and still garnered acclaim for his work reassures me that creativity isn’t purely a matter of credentials or devoted hours. It’s about persistence, vision, and the drive to make something meaningful.

As gratifying as it is to connect the dots like this, I also wonder about my ancestors whose memories have been lost to time — and perhaps to racist record-keeping practices. Black Americans weren’t allowed to have records in certain parts of the country or didn’t always have the finances to maintain them. It’s a reality one Banner reader, Tayo, shared with me last month: “As a mixed guy with white, Black American, and African family members, I realized how deep disparities run in lineage tracing. I could trace white relatives back to Europe easily but any 19th-century info about Black ancestors was a peek into a cloud of mystery,” Tayo said.

I’ve run into the same issue, and it’s a reminder of how racism touched nearly every facet of life in America, especially now as some politicians want to suppress our historical contributions and narratives.

Meanwhile, my great-grandfather’s paintings have disappeared. And I wonder if they were thrown out after he passed or if they’re still somewhere in Baltimore.

I’ve made it my new quest to discover what happened to them.

My grandmother, his daughter, often reminds me, “You have the right name.”

Now, perhaps, I’m finally in the right place to not only unearth his lost art but also discover who I truly am.