When artist Fabian Williams took on a commission from the National Center for Civil and Human Rights to commemorate the 1906 Atlanta Race Massacre through a mural, Williams knew the work would be bigger than him. The recently unveiled piece, splashed across the back of Carver Neighborhood Market in Brownsville, does more than recall one of Atlanta’s most violent and overlooked traumas. It insists on being seen.
Getting there wasn’t simple. Williams faced setbacks, both personal and logistical, while reckoning with these particular ghosts of Atlanta’s past.
A few days after the piece’s community unveiling, Williams spoke with Rough Draft Atlanta about translating atrocity into public art, why 18 versions weren’t enough, and how a community of fellow artists carried him—and the work—through illness and obstacles.
Q: This mural takes on the 1906 Atlanta Race Massacre. How did you approach transforming that trauma into public art that people encounter every day?
I asked myself: how can I make this visually arresting while also delivering the historical facts? It had to be something people would notice from the street, but also something that told the truth.
That balance wasn’t easy. A lot of people came with concerns—about whether the mural would bother people, about how white figures were portrayed. I learned that painting white people as too angry is still a problem for some. Usually, on a project, you get three revisions. Here, I did 19.
I wanted to go beyond the moment of the massacre itself. I wanted to show what led to it, what happened afterward, and what ultimately stopped the violence. That was complicated, especially because I was asked not to depict guns. But a massacre in the early 20th century would obviously involve guns.
The sky opens above Fabian Williams’s mural as final details take shape during the Sept. 27 unveiling at Carver Market. Credit: Sherri Daye Scott 
Artists sit on scaffolding above the crowd as the mural is revealed to the South Atlanta community. Credit: Sherri Daye Scott 
Neighbors gather in front of Fabian Williams’s mural at the Sept. 27 unveiling in South Atlanta’s Brownsville community. Credit: Sherri Daye Scott 
Artists and volunteers use lifts and scaffolding to finish the 1906 Commemorative Mural ahead of the unveiling at Carver Market. Credit: Sherri Daye Scott
Q: How did you balance remembering violence with showing resilience?
Resilience was always part of the story. Fifty years after slavery, Black people were chasing education, building towns, and strengthening communities. That progress was real.
I wanted to show that mindset—what people were striving for—alongside the forces driving white violence. The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution, competing newspapers, were fanning white fears. That media frenzy directly led to the massacre.
Q: You got sick while painting and needed help to finish. What happened?
At first, I thought it was food poisoning, but then I suspected E. coli. By the time I got to the doctor, they told me to go straight to the ER.
While I was in the hospital, my assistant kept working on the mural. Then her car was stolen … right off the site! The lift broke down several times. Everything was stacked against us.
“… neighborhoods don’t just ‘end up’ the way they are. The trauma of events like the 1906 massacre lingers.
muralist fabian williams
So, I put out a call for what I called Operation Ubuntu, the South African idea of “I am because we are.” I posted on social media asking for help. About 12 artists showed up, many of them people I didn’t even know. They stepped in and helped me move the project forward. There’s no way I could have finished it alone.
Q: How long did the project take, start to finish?
I began in August 2024. It was supposed to take three months. It took a year and two months—the longest I’ve ever worked on a commission.
Q: You’ve set up a fundraiser tied to the project. What’s the goal?
My own fee is covered. But I started a fundraiser for Operation Ubuntu to support the artists who helped me. So far, I’ve raised about $1,600. My goal is at least $3,000, hopefully more, so I can properly compensate the people who saved me.
Q: What do you hope people take away when they see the mural?
I want them to get a snapshot of history. I want them to understand that neighborhoods don’t just “end up” the way they are. The trauma of events like the 1906 massacre lingers. That’s why some areas feel stagnant compared to others.
The mural is bright on purpose. You can’t miss it from the street. My hope is that people pause, walk over, and learn. Context matters. If we can see why communities look the way they do, maybe we can finally reckon with what Atlanta has been through.
Williams’s mural is both monument and mirror. By putting Atlanta’s ghosts on the wall, he invites the city to stop, look, and understand who we were and how we got there.