Art / Life

Tim and I were invited to a private view of an exhibition of paintings and sketches by Jules George, the brother of one of the “regular” crew of Coh Karek—you may remember me mentioning Dominic. The exhibition, at Bonhams (a somewhat well-known art auctioneer that has been in existence since 1793), is called ‘Into the Valley’ (Scenes of an Afghan Conflict). Jules went to Helmand Providence in February of 2010 and from that experience created over 150 pieces of art that are now on display at Bonham’s New Bond street location in London.

What struck me first as we walked into a very crowded gallery was the colour of the sky in Jules’ paintings—it is a beautiful, soft blue that is not quite bright but blends effortlessly with the sand below to create a muted, pleasant landscape. These are not all pictures of war per se—many of the paintings and sketches do have soldiers and helicopters, but there are also landscapes, and Afghans dressed in traditional garb who live in the midst of the war. Those where soldiers are depicted show a mix of emotions on their faces that Jules captured wonderfully--I saw tiredness, sadness, slight exasperation.

Tim and I met Corporal Ross because Tim wanted to know what the significance of a blue band around the helmet of one group of soldiers in one of the larger paintings meant—perhaps they were in a particular infantry, for example.  Corporal Ross—I didn’t catch his first name—is handsome and young—early 20s—and has a wife and two children under the age of three at home in London. He is on leave, but is ready and seemed to me anxiously awaiting his fourth stint in Afghanistan. He is related to Betsy Ross, and recognised me as a Yank immediately (likely by my accent). He is animated, talkative, and knows quite a bit about guns and ammunition, as you might expect.

We chat; I am listening to him talk about uniforms, food, having to carry pounds of gear, in the desert. I am not listening that carefully because, in my mind, I’m thinking four tours of duty? Of course I didn’t say it aloud, but I was a bit shocked—he didn’t seem quite old enough to have been there and back three times, for one thing. Maybe I was even a little disappointed that he has a young family at home and should simply stay there and take care of them. He is in the line of fire, I gathered from the conversation, constantly.  He talks about it matter-of-factly; of course he is in a war, and that comes with the territory. I am thinking I am judging him harshly in my mind while being amiable on the surface.

I realise he, and all of the troops, are protecting us. I recognise, too, that for families who have a military history, as Corporal Ross’ family does, that being part of the armed forces is what you do, and he is very proud of his heritage, and happy to do his part to serve. We need soldiers, and what soldier doesn't have loved ones left behind? Very few, I imagine.

There was also a bit of sobriety amid the champagne and canapes when we are reminded that 100,000 veterans are suffering psychological trauma as a result of their service. Jules, to his credit, is giving a percentage of his sales to the organisation Combat Stress. That doesn't surprise me, and not because I know Jules--we met only briefly. I think he saw anguish--and aptly depicted it--and found a way to help through his work.

I left the exhibition happy to have met the artist and congratulate him for his work. I was glad to have had an opportunity to talk with a soldier—it wasn't something I'd planned, though in hindsight it did make the conflict seem more real, even more than Jules’ work could.

I also left thinking, quite morbidly, that now that I have a face to the name that I hope I never hear of Corporal Ross on the radio or read his name in the paper. It is the slightest of bonds, I know; but it is there.