Your Official Guide to Who's Who in the City of Jackson

We’ve all been there: that moment when we realize we’ve taken our local government for granted and quite frankly have no clue who to call. No matter how vigorously our local leaders keep watch over our city, there will always be the occasional pothole, confusing terms, and roadkill in your driveway to put a damper on your day. But dealing with those issues and a dozen other shouldn’t be a hassle. That’s why we’ve created this “Who’s Who?” guide to twelve of our city’s most important departments.

Fresh Paint : Public Art in Uncertain Times

There are plenty of conversations about what art is and isn’t, who it is and isn’t for. I’m interested in this conversation, but I can’t answer that question, unless I answer it for myself. This September, I painted a mural that is now one of the first things to greet you when you arrive in downtown Jackson. Nestled just past Grubb’s Grocery and the Jackson Walk on North Highland, it’s a bright and idyllic scene, and I’m not oblivious to the fact that it’s an even more idealistic message: Love your neighborhood.

Raising the Bar

Raised in Leland, Mississippi, by her enlightened and encouraging grandmother, Rochell Staten knew from a young age that she could do and become anything she wanted. “My grandmother wanted nothing but the best for me, and she made sure that education was a priority,” Rochell says. “Her believing in me […] made me believe in myself even more.” As a senior in high school, earning good grades and with only one year of track and field under her belt, Rochell landed a full four-year athletic scholarship to Mississippi Valley State University.

Working on a Building

At the fringes of Natchez Trace State Park, passersby wouldn’t have an inkling of thought to wonder what is being built just down the dirt drive leading into the woods. It’s completely unassuming, and for at least three bumps in the road, I’m not not sure if I’ve arrived in the right place—until a bouncy Rhodesian Ridgeback pup comes galloping up the road, barking to signal my approach. Ranger gives a couple sniffs to the air and a cautionary bark to make sure I’m not an intruder, then happily licks me head to toe.

Shootin' the Breeze

You can find them at the corner of Westwood and Summar, really anytime of day—the group of men of various ages, sometimes a few women or children mixed in. They gather around in a circle in white, resin chairs, discussing sports, the daily goings on in the news, or updates on their kids and grandkids. (That’s at least what I imagine; they could be talking about nuclear physics or the Kardashians, what do I know?) These gentlemen seem to be the epitome of “community.”