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South Graduates Bring Artistry to Mobile Carnival

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Posted on February 18, 2020

Thomas Becnel

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The Mardi Gras traditions of Mobile include a talented group of University of South Alabama artists who build, shape and paint the fanciful floats that roll through downtown parades.

The story begins with Steve Mussell, class of 1981, who鈥檚 been building parade floats for more than 40 years. He grew up in Mobile, which has the oldest Carnival tradition in America. He enjoys the artistry of papier-m芒ch茅 construction that blends glue, paper and cardboard.

鈥淚n Louisiana, they use canvas, which is more durable,鈥� he says. 鈥淲hat we do is more fragile, but our stuff is more sculptural.鈥�

Mussell, 66, wears paint-spattered clothes and works in tin-roofed barns south of downtown. He鈥檚 used to the heat of summer and the cold of winter, along with the long days and short deadlines before Mardi Gras. Somehow, the floats rise and parades roll, no matter what.

鈥淥ne year,鈥� he says, 鈥淚 worked 70 days without a day off.鈥�

His business, the Mirth Company, designs and builds floats for some of Mobile鈥檚 most iconic parading groups 鈥� Crewe of Columbus, Mystic Stripers, Infant Mystics and Knights of Revelry.

Mussell, who studied in what is now the art and art history department, has hired many South-trained artists over the years. Some went on to start their own float-building companies. Others are just getting started.

Vanessa Quintana is one of the latest USA artists. A graduate of 2010, Quintana is from the Mississippi Gulf Coast, but didn鈥檛 know much about Mardi Gras until two years ago. Her experience with ceramics helped her learn new techniques.

鈥淵ou start with the armature, a wooden frame,鈥� she says. 鈥淭hen you tear cardboard into strips and build an exoskeleton. Sometimes you build separate pieces and put them into place. Then you keep adding layers, and it鈥檚 more like papier-m芒ch茅. Painting comes next. There鈥檚 a base coat of white paint and then colors.鈥�

Quintana, 31, sports her own paint-smeared tights and a red 鈥淪outh Alabama鈥� sweatshirt. Her brown hair features streaks of green. She鈥檚 grateful to be a working artist with a one-of-a-kind niche in the creative world.

鈥淚 never imagined this would be part of my life,鈥� she says. 鈥淗ere I am at work surrounded by these giant figures. A lot of times, it doesn鈥檛 feel real, you know?鈥�

Quintana listens to music and podcasts while working. Time passes and colorful characters take shape. Sometimes she has to step back for perspective.

鈥淪teve tells me to put on my Mardi Gras goggles,鈥� she says. 鈥淗e wants me to look at a float like someone would at a parade. You stand far away, squint and kind of turn your head.鈥�

Lights for Night Parades

For George Criminale, 鈥�83, Mardi Gras is a family business.

鈥淢y father built his first float in 1938,鈥� he says. 鈥淚t wasn鈥檛 his main job back then. He had a sign shop and did displays for businesses and homes around town, with Mardi Gras on the side.鈥�

Criminale earned a theater degree at South Alabama and did stage lighting at the old Saenger Theatre downtown. He went on to become facilities manager for Fox News 10 in Mobile. He does electrical work for more than a half-dozen local parades.

The history of float lighting includes everything from torches and lanterns to railroad flares and marine lights. Now fluorescent and incandescent bulbs are being replaced by the latest in LED lights.

Criminale, 62, remembers when mechanicals 鈥� moving parts on a float 鈥� were powered by kids pulling on ropes inside a float. Now there are electric motors. Before generators, some float lights were powered by a series of car batteries.

鈥淣ear the end of a parade,鈥� he says, 鈥渢he lights would get dimmer and dimmer.鈥�

During Carnival season, Criminale hustles between parades and broadcasts. Mobile wouldn鈥檛 be Mobile without Mardi Gras. His spirit is sometimes stronger than his stamina.

鈥淚鈥檓 a hyper person and all,鈥� he says, 鈥渂ut it鈥檚 taking its toll.鈥�

Floating Critiques

Mobile鈥檚 Meagan Marler, 鈥�05, started painting Mardi Gras floats while she was still in high school. She started working for Mussell while earning her art degree from South Alabama.

For her, a parade is more like a critique session.

鈥淒id that color work?鈥� she asks. 鈥淲as that a dynamic-looking float? What could you have done better? It鈥檚 never the same. Some floats look great in the barn, but terrible on the street, and vice versa.鈥�

Marler, 41, spent more than 20 years with the Mirth Company. Mussell encouraged her to go out on her own and take over a parade for the Order of Polka Dots. Her new company is called Mystic Float Works.

鈥淭his year, I鈥檓 by myself,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 knew I could do the actual work. It was the business end that was scary.鈥�

Marler had to hire two assistants to work on her 14 floats. She鈥檚 learning to delegate responsibility. That鈥檚 new, too.

The Polka Dots are an all-woman krewe, which might have made her transition a little easier.

鈥淲omen have run parades before, but it鈥檚 mostly been men,鈥� she says. 鈥淚鈥檓 not sure a men鈥檚 organization would have been so keen on the idea.鈥�

Preserving a Tradition

Craig Stephens is another designer who studied at South and under Mussell before starting his own company, Carnival Artists.

Stephens, '90, just completed work on his 30th season.

鈥淚t鈥檚 a bizarre feeling,鈥� said Stephens, 55. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e going 120 miles an hour, for months and months, and then nothing. It鈥檚 strange, but a relief.鈥�

His company does floats for Mobile krewes including the Order of Myths, Order of LeShe鈥檚 and Mobile Mystics.

Stephens has eight full-time employees and adds more during the months before Mardi Gras. A few years ago, Carnival Artists moved into a new barn on Houston Street.

His business is always changing, but the vision remains the same.

鈥淲e鈥檙e trying to preserve a tradition of float-building in Mobile,鈥� said Stephens, noting the style of float building using papier-m芒ch茅. 鈥淚 think it鈥檚 important to preserve our identity.鈥�

New Artist on Board

After graduating from South, Quintana did different jobs before recommitting to her art. She started a graphic design company, VQillustration, and began selling paintings and prints at the Art Walk in downtown Mobile.

That鈥檚 where she met a friend who heard about a job painting Mardi Gras floats. Did she know anyone who was interested? Why, yes, she did.

Quintana took that job with the Mirth Company. She was warned about the uncomfortable temperatures of a float barn. They range from 100 degrees in the summer to 20 degrees in the winter.

鈥淵ou can鈥檛 have space heaters, because they鈥檙e a fire hazard, so your fingers get stiff, and you have to do this all detail work,鈥� she says. 鈥淏ut the heat is much worse.鈥�

At the same time, Quintana has the satisfaction of continuing the tradition of South graduates working in Mardi Gras.

She鈥檚 still learning the tricks of the float-building trade. There are ways to strip cardboard that make for a more even surface. There are details to painting and shading the final colors on a float.

Quintana invited her mother last year for her first parade in Mobile. The big reveal. All of her artistic work rolled right past them.

鈥淚鈥檓 like a set designer finally seeing a stage with the actors on it,鈥� she says, savoring the memory. 鈥淚t鈥檚 at night, under the lights. Everything is leafed, which makes it look shiny, and everything just pops.鈥�

Mardi Gras Scraps and Stories

After four decades of float building, Mussell tries to pace himself through Carnival season. Long bike rides around town help clear his mind and keep him in shape.

As a little boy, he would play 鈥淢ardi Gras鈥� around the house.

鈥淚 would take the wheels off my Army man jeeps,鈥� Mussell says, 鈥渁nd get toilet paper tubes to make dragons that would snake around.鈥�

In the 1960s and 鈥�70s, Mobile was a smaller place. So was the University of South Alabama. And its art department.

One of the things Mussell learned in school was that any object can be made into art. Inspiration on a budget. Mardi Gras figures can be constructed with everything from chicken wire and scraps of wood to plastic pipe and acrylic globes.

鈥淎 good float builder drives by a pile a junk and goes 鈥榟mmm,鈥欌�� he says.

Mussell still enjoys watching parades, but says he only catches beads in self-defense. His calendar hasn鈥檛 changed in 40 years. It鈥檚 always hectic when he鈥檚 finishing new floats and touching up old ones for the final week of parades.  

鈥淎fter that, it鈥檚 an easy pace,鈥� he says. 鈥淎fter Mardi Gras, everybody takes off for a month.鈥�

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