All for the glory of god: Mural artist Alton Fairley beautifies Quitman, MS
Article and photographs by Terry Lynch
Graphic Artist & Photojournalist
Alton Fairley in front of Mimmo's where he was working on murals
If you are ever down in Quitman, Mississippi, take a look around town for murals gracing the walls of local shops and businesses. Alton Fairley, a veterain who use to jump out of planes when he was in the 82nd Airborne, is now doing God’s work to beautify the brick walls and masonry of Quitman.
I first encountered Alton at the Quitman public library when I noticed a gentleman whose clothes were covered with splattered paint, a walking and talking Jackson Pollack. However, when I introduced myself, he said he liked to be called Picasso. Having met the Picasso as a boy in Paris while at the Louver and an artist myself who enjoys a good jest, I replied, “Your aren’t Picasso. I am Picasso!”
Mural artist Alton Fairley painting an Italian city landscape inside Mimmo’s.
I was a young boy when I met the real Picasso. He had an easel set up and was painting a picture of the Mona Lisa before she was behind bullet proof glass. He could see I was curious and perplexed, as what he was painting did not look at all like what was hanging on the wall. He pointed at the Mona Lisa, then at his head which was capped with a black burette gesturing with his hands all about wildly saying, “Picasso! Picasso! Picasso!” He was telling me that his version of the Mona Lisa was all in his head, his fantasy, his dreams and imagination. That was my first art lesson.
Of course no one is Picasso except Picasso, but the association is enough to gain instant attention. The fact that Alton knew this told me that he was quite aware of how the power of words worked in creating a mystique, indeed, in fostering fame, fortune, and glory in the competitive world in which we live.
After meeting Alton and learning he was a mural artist, I began exploring Quitman to discover and photograph his large murals. I was quite surprised to find Alton’s work popping up everywhere.
Old town Quitman: The Long Bell by Alton Fairley
There was an Alton mural gracing the walls of the Southern Market, my favorite grocery store in town. There was an Alton on the wall of the athletic store at the corner of Church Street and Archusa Avenue. Another Alton graced the entrance to a flower shop across from the post office. Oh my, Alton’s were indeed popping up everywhere.
I was sitting in Mimmo’s drinking a glass of ice water to get out of the heat and cool down when Alton walked in and spotted me. He invited me to come watch and photograph him at work as he painted a large mural upon the wall. We began to chat.
Alton told me how as a young lad going to school in Quitman, he had been inspired by Karen Fowler, an art teacher who recognized his special gift. He said, “She didn’t have to do it. The school was being integrated. There was tension. But she took me under her wing and helped me learn. My first painting was of Jesus Christ.”
Alton continued to talk with brush in hand, dipping it into cans of acrylic paint of different colors laying on the floor. I could tell from his pallet, those cans of paint and how he worked with the paint, mixing and blending the colors on the wall, that Alton was a master at his craft.
Mural by Alton Fairley inside Southern Market
Alton told me about his mother’s death and how he was adopted by an older sister in Michigan. He had taken some art classes in collage but said he didn’t graduate. He went into the military where he learned how to jump out of airplanes and parachute into war zones. He was in Panama, in 1978 during the riots. Alton said, we routed ‘em “Want-to-be rebels” out in the jungle. “They were no match for us, just want-to-be-rebels on the run.”
Alton told me he fought with men of all colors who would die for him. It didn’t matter what color you were. “When the bullets start flying it don’t matter. It didn’t matter if they had a Confederate flag on their wall. We were brothers in arms and had each other’s back. We were on stand-by 24/7 to go fight and die anywhere in the world upon a moment’s notice. Yeah, they were want-to-be rebels in Panama and we whooped their ass!” (the profanity is mine :-) , not Alton’s).
Now while Alton was painting a scene from an Italian city landscape, I listened to him recount his experiences, took photos and made a short video. (Click to watch Alton doing his magic). I recorded much of what he said in my mind and took notes. So my quotes are not exact and should be regarded as paraphrasing.
Alton said, “God gets all the glory, not me.” I interrupted, “But....”
Alton cut in, “There ain’t no buts! God gets all the glory. Some people worship money. God and His glory are my inspiration.”
I continued to listen and took more photographs as Alton dipped his brush into a can of orange paint, looked at a picture he was using as a model and reference. I could see he had 20/20 vision as he glanced at his reference, theb brushed paint upon the wall. He knew how to layer paints, how to blend white with any hue and then overlay overlay with primary colors. He knew how to sketch outlines quickly with black strokes and then layer to get the proper outline and perspective. Whoever his teachers were, they were good, as Alton was definitely as master at his craft.
Tribute to Mississippi by Alton Fairley
Leaving Mimmo’s, walking out into the heat, Alton started talking about murals he had painted inside other businesses up and down Main Street. He wanted me to see and photograph them all. But I could not take the heat. Alton did not seem to be effected y the heat; it did not phase him. Ah, but I was over dressed and it felt hot out on the asphalt. However, as Alton sat down to take a break from his work, he lit a cigarette, took a drag, and kept talking. I continued to take more pictures before shaking hands and thanking him for letting me gain some greater insight into how he was working to beautify Quitman all for the glory of God.
As I watched Alton light up that cigarette, an image of one of the last paintings Van Gogh made flashed into my mind. It is of a skull smoking a cigarette. Alton was slowly killing himself.
One of the great good causes I advocate for is “Stop Smoking!” You see, both my mother and father smoked cigarettes. When you are in the military cigarettes are not taxes, so they are cheap. This encourages soldiers and their families to smoke more, not less. The result i that soldiers which do not die in battle may one day die of cancer, their final days being connected to a respirator or laying in their loved one’s arms from a heart attack due to congestive heart failure.
Butterfly gracing the masonry in front of the flower shop at 104 Archusa Ave.
Smoking has destroyed many a soldier’s life. Smoking was a factor in shortening my own father’s life. But he enjoyed his cigarettes and went to meet his maker at the age of 53 only months after having open heart surgery to replace heart valves. Smoking had put the nail in my own father’s coffin, just as it was slowly doing to Alton.
You can’t live forever; no on can. But it hurts me to see Alton slowly killing himself. While Alton paints murals to beautify Quitman, giving all the glory to God, smoking is slowly killing him. And the same slow death is happening to millions upon millions of other beautiful people around the world.
Hence, one of the ways I am doing God’s Work, is to advocate for Stop Smoking/Cancer Kills! Check out Cancer Resources.
Please help! Make a donation now to God’s Work at:
Who knows, maybe your contribution to this Great Good Cause will save a life. Maybe one of them will be Alton’s.
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