An unexpected occasion led me and a couple of friends,to visit another artist out of state. He should be the poster boy for PTSD. He is an abstract artist, in a hurry,disturbing, black and white images on canvas. One hundred of them. All original and no similarities in any way.His work is confusing and naive until he explains what what we are looking at. They are the history of his youth when he came face to face with his mortality at age 18. Threatened with the infantry, he added years to his time in service to be a door gunner in a Huey model C gunship. He shredded flesh, he talks about the carnage, he accepted it as his job. Then he leaks his morbid guilt, at 70 years old he never thinks of anything else, and almost wants to ask forgiveness. He showed me a photo series of his new wife. The first one she was smiling sweetly into the lens, attractive and trusting. The next one she is laughing and in on the party and good times. The next photo she looks shocked. The next one her facial muscles cant produce a smile and her youth is gone from her face. Sagging and dark under the eyes. The last photo she was a broken soul and spirit. She no longer looked into the lens. He destroyed her in a period of four months. I jumped his ass and we left.
Posted on: Mon, 31 Mar 2014 16:55:00 +0000
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