ABSALOM

The idea I had when creating this series was to show the transition from military to civilian life that I and so many service-members are experiencing.

Many have lost their humanity through severe physical and moral injury. Treated and untreated PTSD keeps them stunted and unable to move forward beyond these injuries. The amount of care and attention required to help these people is not met, so we see the veterans continue on their mission of simply surviving. The self being prioritized last below all other things. 

As I was playing with these toys I recalled a time when I would build army bunkers in the hillsides behind my home in Green River, Wyoming. Digging into the clay and building small huts out of sagebrush and thin slices of shale that chipped away from surrounding bluffs. The scenes spanned from hill to hill. My friends and I would play war all day.

The thought of toy soldiers wouldn’t leave my head, though. I felt a special sort of closeness to the idea - as I had spent the last ten years playing the role in real life.

We forget in our everyday lives, I think, the importance that “play” has in the development of children’s, OUR minds.

We grow up learning that there is a bad guy out there who deserves to die. We play these roles over and over as kids (and adults), not knowing how deep this play is actually effecting our minds. When we are grown we begin to feel patriotic and proud about these ideas - and call them more sophisticated names. “War” becomes “defense” and the savagery of our childhood becomes something we must tame rhetorically but foster mentally.

Instead of the innocent childish brutality of “kill, kill, kill,” we scream “USA! USA! USA!” and cheer our soldiers on. 

This psychological attachment to the inner child playing with toy soldiers is powerful. From so many perspectives it holds a person to this idea that they must continue playing - because “if they don’t, who will?” We must be an example of patriotism and love of country - of bravery and selflessness and a willingness to die for ideas that we don’t entirely comprehend yet. 

“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori” - “sweet and good is the patriots death.” 

The idea of the patriot’s death being something righteous is disappointing to say the least - and disgusting for all that it means to die for a government like ours. 

The first part to the series brings attention to this post-service life when the transition is just too much. There is a real disconnect from service members and their entitlements. They either don’t know and are never told how to learn this important info for veterans, or they have a self-deprecating attitude that they don’t deserve these entitlements. They also feel like they’re not as bad off as some others, so in order to leave enough for those who “deserve” it more, they simply ignore their own needs in the name of yet another sacrifice for a fellow service member. We are taught to survive, but always sacrifice self in order to help in a prescribed, strictly prioritized way. In the navy we said “ship, shipmate, self.” This standard was meant to help “prioritize” national security during indoctrination. 

A look at the loss many veterans endure after service always brings us to homelessness and the continuation of the mission to survive, a subject I may not ever be able to depict appropriately.

We are told before getting out how easy it is, how civilians have such an easy life. After service ends, we have this mentality, but we don’t know how to do anything else. All we know is the mission, which we’ve always thought was pointless and didn’t understand in the first place.

The second and third parts to this series are meant to continue the idea of inhumanity and the mentality that they are still just a play thing waiting for their person to put them into action. When nothing ever happens, PTSD is left untreated, when their injuries are ignored, they realize this fact: They are a piece of a machine put aside, an old toy no longer useful or desirable among the new and fresh being strung along by the government.

We see through the second and third parts that there is a wondering, depressing hopelessness that overshadows even the vibrancy of the world. The color tones are muted and the perspective is meant to bring attention to the indecision to hurt oneself, or keep surviving.

The third part of “Dulce et decorum est” is the decision to finally end their life. Surviving is not living or thriving. We see the veterans’ focus and determination, even when “nothing else matters” to make the best choice possible for love of family, friends, and country. No longer a burden on anyone, especially themselves, there is finally peace.