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In 2005 I proposed a site-specific project which acknowledged that the US had been at war in Iraq for two years, and that our high desert landscape was tied to another desert landscape across the world. Rather than select a spot of land from which to address this, I chose to photograph some of the bodies that traversed these two landscapes: Marines from the nearby Twenty Nine Palms Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center. I focused on the memorial tattoos that they’d had inscribed upon returning from the Iraq war, many naming the friends and comrades who died. I printed one out as a poster (and later, more) and invited the audience, a mix of Marines, local residents and art folk, to take a copy if they wished. This extended the project to other geographies, literal and psychic.
The project has had a long half-life. At first I was contacted by the Marines pictured in the posters, then by their families, who often asked me to send them copies of the posters. I also fielded requests from an Army psychologist who had treated soldiers; academics studying military social practices and iconography; and peace activists. As word of the project spread I was contacted by two Gold Star Mothers whose sons’ names appeared in the memorial tattoo photographs.
I’m still in touch with some of Marines pictured in the photos I took back in 2006, including Owen McNamara (pictured in this poster). They are still dealing with a lot of war related injuries (including less-visible blast-related brain trauma). Discharged as “Wounded Warriors,” some felt discarded by the Marine Corps after they were no longer useful.
It’s clear from our social media feeds that we find ourselves on different sides of the issues dividing our country. Yet the project continues to urge me to create bridges across class and cultural lines. The Marines trusted me to photograph them, and I reciprocate in part by maintaining the images in a spirit of mutual regard. The posters take up a lot of space in my studio, and I keep wanting to toss them out, but then out of the blue I’ll hear from another Marine asking for copies of his freshly inked memorial. The conversation between two desert landscapes, and between an artist and a group of soldiers, has continued for more than a decade, and seems likely to persist.