Faces of the fallen
A new exhibit memorializes American war dead from Iraq and Afghanistan in portraiture
Artistry. "I felt a deep sense of responsibility to my soldiers and to those they left behind," says Y. David Chung, a faculty member at the School of Art and Design at the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor who contributed 13 intricately detailed, white-lined profiles on black scratchboard. Still, exhibition organizers were concerned about how family members would react to the art, which runs the gamut from photo-realistic to abstract. Several images were either removed from the show or sent back to artists for reworking. "We know there are going to be families that won't like their portrait," says Polan, "and we'll try to respect that."
As the project grew in size and scope, a number of contributors became disillusioned with the exhibit, which, they contend, shifted its focus significantly. "The original purpose of the show was to be an antiwar protest--a sensitive and respectful one, but a protest nonetheless--and it has evolved into this strange, almost pro-war sort of bent," says D.C. artist Jason Zimmerman, who considered pulling the portraits he worked on but ultimately decided to leave them in. "Taken together," he says, "I think it's hard to ignore the fact that these people have families--mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands, children, friends--and now they're gone."
For Bill and Eileen Shea, whose son Kevin was killed in Fallujah on his 38th birthday in September, the exhibit has a message beyond art and politics. "It also invokes great sadness and reminds you of the loss of human potential," says Bill. After the couple saw Kevin's portrait--a delicate pencil sketch of their imposing eldest son, who played football and rugby for the Air Force Academy and went on to serve as a communications officer for the 1st Marine Regiment--they were astonished by the way the artist was able to capture his essence. "It's amazing how someone could see one photo of him and bring out the gentleness he had," says Eileen, her eyes welling with tears in the Sheas' cozy living room in northwest Washington. "We want to keep talking about him and to have him be a part of our lives, and so every image and honor is important."
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