Persona
Persona is a commemorative project raising awareness of the cultural and creative engagements of Australian contemporary veteran artists. The project took shape in 2017 with the chance meeting of ANVAM founder, Tanja Johnston, and professional photographer, Michael Christofas. Tanja and Michael brought their interests in showcasing who veteran artists are together to form Persona.
Persona honours living and recent/contemporary Australian service personnel who form the veteran arts community. It aims to provide a glimpse and insight into current and ex-serving veteran artists and their persona as artists and creatives.
The concept for the project was developed across multiple media to commemorate recent/contemporary service personnel, to inform and increase public awareness of their service, and sacrifice and highlight lived experiences both during and post service.
Having developed the concept, a DVA Saluting Their Service grant was awarded to deliver Persona nationally in a range of complementary formats including an exhibition, an online digital showcase and supporting publication.
At the invitation of the Victorian Veterans Minister the exhibition component was held during March 2022 in the Queens Hall of the Victorian Parliament House. The exhibition consisted of 12 large photographic display panels and was the first exhibition in Parliament following the COVID-19 pandemic.
Expanding on the exhibition, an online digital showcase of 44 veteran artists portraits with accompanying narratives takes the exhibition Australia wide to create broad national public awareness. This medium for showcasing veteran artists enables a broader national and international audience to engage in the cultural activity, and experience the exhibition and connect with the stories of service and sacrifice of service personnel, in particular veterans in the veteran arts community.
The final element is the curated publication. This component is a commemorative cultural record and legacy document showcasing the diversity and richness of the Australian veteran arts community at a point in time.
The Persona project will continue to evolve from these initial elements into an enduring project showcasing the veteran arts community. Veteran artists have long been part of the broader Australian community. They are our story tellers and creatives who inspire us. Their work will continue to live on as a legacy for future generations.
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Air Force, Painter - Musician
Adam was born in Hong Kong, before the handover of that country from Britain to China. In the late 1980s, when he was nine years old, his parents emigrated to Sunnybank in Queensland with Adam, his brother and two sisters. From his earliest years, Adam lived in a world of creativity with his father working as a chef.
At high school, Adam’s favourite subjects were Biology and Film and Television. He loved participating in school musicals and concerts, both as a singer and a performer. His creativity shone brightly.
“When I was a kid, I was touched by the Anzac spirit. I was always interested in joining up. Even at uni, I went to anything at all that the military put on. But I thought I should finish my studies first. I kept that dream alive and, when I graduated and started working as an Occupational Therapist, I joined the air force reserves. This allowed me to have both of the things I loved in my life.”
His was a Direct Entry enlistment in the reserves, which saw him begin his military training as an Officer. Adam remained a reservist and, later, volunteered as an Officer of Cadets with the Australian Air Force Cadets.
Working as an Occupational Therapist, Adam developed an interest in mental health, the brain and the human mind. He expanded this interest to specialising in the mental health of children and young adults. Another of Adam’s many areas of interest has been military mental health, where he advocated for veterans in their transition from military to civilian life. He promotes help-seeking behaviours through his involvement with Occupational Therapy, Australia.
As Adam developed professionally, he began focussing on using creative arts to promote mental health. In 2015, already with two young children of his own, he created a youth event called The Positive Mindset Creative Arts Festival. This showcases dance, drama, music, visual arts and media arts. The festival culminates in Mental Health Week and the feedback from the young people involved backed up his belief that purposeful, artistic activities made them feel worthwhile. His motto for the festival is “Create, Connect and Chat” and, because of the Covid-19 Pandemic in 2020, he added the words “Keep Calm and (get) Cracking”. As well as promoting mental wellbeing, Adam aims to reduce the stigma of mental illness and addiction issues in young people through the arts.
More than twenty years of actively working as a community volunteer in areas such as youth advocacy and mentoring, fundraising, supporting his local church, working with the veteran community and a long engagement in community radio broadcasting, has resulted in Adam’s efforts being recognised. In 2021, Adam was awarded the Medal of the Order of Australia, and was also a recipient of the Multicultural Queensland Award in 2006. He also earned the Brisbane Lord Mayor’s Australia Day Achievement Award in 2011, a Highly Commended Award in the Queensland Health Awards for Excellence in 2015 and was a finalist in the Pride of Australia Medal Award in 2015, and the Mental Health Week Achievement Awards in 2017 and 2018.
“Lately, I’ve been getting more into my own interest in visual arts. I’ve also always loved music - guitar and singing. It connects you to others and I’m learning saxophone with my boy. Also, although I’ve never had any formal training, I’ve always liked to draw. I really enjoy doing portraits, rather than landscapes. I experiment and sometimes add in a bit of mixed media. I have been painting portraits of work colleagues as a gift for important events in their life. I like to include an object, or symbol, that has some importance to them.
“One of my paintings shows the transitioning from military life to civilian life for a female, and the fact that Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) can be a real part of that transition. I get my ideas from knowing the person.”
Adam’s life became even busier when his air force reservist role led him to being appointed Aide de Camp to His Excellency, the Honourable Paul de Jersey, Governor of Queensland in 2019. He continued in this role as Her Excellency, the Honourable Jeanette Young, became Governor in 2021, who was previously the Chief Health Officer in Queensland and led that State through the Covid-19 pandemic. Adam was very involved with the pomp and ceremony that accompanied this changeover of Governors.
Young Adam’s pride in his country, and love of both the performing and visual arts, have kept him focussed throughout his adult life.
“Art gives me an escape from all of the other things in my life.”
His greatest wish is to continue to open these avenues to the young people with whom he interacts.
@adamloart
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Brad, Army - Musician
Maria, Family - Author
As a child, Brad never imagined any life other than a career in the army.
“I was that Sixties kid in a green helmet with a plastic gun, or a stick to use as a gun”.
The army lived up to his young dreams. He began his military career in the Royal Australian Armoured Corps (RAAC). He was an Armoured Personnel Carrier (APC) driver at 17 and moved on to become a Vehicle Commander, an instructor, and then retired 33 years later as a Warrant Officer Class 1 and Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM) of the RAAC.
“Why walk, when you can ride?” he asks, laughing.
“The army was always my family, and my home away from home,” says Brad.
Brad and Maria met, and married, when Brad had been in the military for ten years. They made the decision at that point to commit to Brad’s army career while Maria would adapt her life around this. However, she wasn’t prepared for their next step.
“Eighteen months after we were married, Brad came home from work one day and said those words that most spouses and partners dread, ‘I’ve been deployed,’” Maria says.
Brad was posted to Cambodia for a year. The country was in tatters and the United Nations was there to help conduct its first democratic election. Brad was a Troop Sergeant in a Signals Corps unit, which controlled radio traffic all over the country.
Being married to a serving soldier meant “keeping the home fires burning,” but Maria hadn’t expected this to be so tough, nor so soon. There was no internet or video calling, and not even a mobile phone. Letters could take up to six weeks to arrive and there was the constant worry of, “Is he OK?”
Maria set up a support network of like-minded people whose partners were away on deployment. However, nothing replaced the support that Brad and Maria could offer each other. What really got them through this time was the fact that they are both positive people who try to find the best in every situation.
“Brad is my strength. We support each other,” says Maria.
Brad successfully applied for a diplomatic posting in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, as Assistant to the Defence Attaché in the Australian Embassy. One of the requirements for the posting was that he learn to speak the Khmer language. Prior to moving to Cambodia, he was posted for a year to the ADF School of Languages at Laverton, outside Melbourne. Maria was offered the 12-month language course, alongside Brad.
“I wouldn’t have passed the language course without her. I knew she didn’t enjoy it but she stuck with it, for my sake,” says Brad.
“I could have left the language training at any time. But, when I was close to doing so, I focused on what I could do, rather than what I couldn’t. I’m not ashamed to say that I struggled.”
After four years in Cambodia, where Maria also worked in the Embassy, the pair returned to Melbourne. It was at this time that Maria’s vision suddenly became blurred and she was diagnosed with a brain tumour. While benign, it needed to be removed.
Their roles were suddenly reversed. Brad now became Maria’s strength and support.
Brad took seven months’ long service leave from the military and they bought a caravan to tour Australia. Maria gradually returned to good health. Their motto of Overcome and Adapt had served them well once again and they relished this time together.
Maria wrote two successful, light-hearted books; Married Quarter - Boots, Berets and Bloody Uniforms about life as a military spouseand Dunnarunna – A Retirement Dunn Right which tells of their life post-military, as full-time travellers on the road.
Their life as Grey Nomads has allowed, and encouraged, their individual creative bents. Brad has documented their lives through photography capturing rare glimpses of parts of Australia as well as quiet, reflective times with friends made along the way. It’s in these times that he enjoys accompanying himself, singing as he plays guitar. However, a stroke in 2019 put a temporary stop to this. He became, “a singer without a voice,” and struggled with this, as he was always “a big, army-voiced man.”
Maria now does the talking as both a writer and speaker, with Brad in the supporting role. He sells her books, takes photographs of this new direction in their lives and is always ready for a chat.
“Every day is a new adventure!” laughs Maria.
The pair are totally in accord with each other and their co-support for each other has never wavered.
“Think about your future…. talk about it…. think…… and paint a picture with your partner,” says Brad as his advice for a long-lasting and satisfying partnership.
“It’s waiting for you.”
@Maria Augustus-Dunn - Author
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Army, Jewellery Designer
Even at school, Christie was unique. The successful art student stood out, with her long hair often adorned with clips, feathers or even chopsticks. She describes herself as both a tomboy and a ‘girlie’ girl with her childhood spent on her family's third-generation sweet potato farm at Cudgen, in the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales.
“Every time I think about my childhood, I think I was living the dream. We were close to the beach and we had a farm life as well. Our family was close-knit. It was an authentic, old-school type of childhood,” Christie recalls.
It was while she was at university that she first saw a military recruiting stand. After chatting with an army officer, who outlined an appealing pathway that allowed her to complete her degree while being paid to study, she enlisted. Her family were amazed and amused, as military life did not appear to fit the outgoing, creative young woman they knew so well.
“I hadn’t really thought about how it would work until I got to Kapooka. It was like chalk and cheese, for me! But I stayed in the army for eight years and, when I was discharged, I had a degree in Paramedical Science rather than Nursing.
“I was actually good at being a soldier. I was always on time, neat, good at instructing and had self-confidence and great organisational skills. When I was doing my job as a medic, I loved it. But military life wasn’t soul-fulfilling for me.”
After discharge, Christie spent seven years working for a medical company, travelling and interacting with medical personnel at all levels. Throughout, however, she still knew, “This is not the grassroots of who I am.”
Christie married a soldier and spent a portion of her adult life moving around the country, before she began to miss her family in Cudgen. The couple moved back home and her days were spent engaging in quieter hobbies such as making clay earrings on the kitchen table.
“Then I realised that I really loved making earrings and wanted to work at it, full time,” she says.
“I get inspiration from colours, designs or anything that catches my eye. I recently saw a great pattern on the floor of a pub and quickly took a photo of it! My mind is never far away from the creative side,” she says.”
“I started selling the earrings online and at markets. From there, my business took off. It wasn’t an overnight success, but involved a lot of hard work. I knew then that creating is what gives me the most joy.
“For a start,” she laughs, “Earrings always fit!”
Those early days of working on the kitchen bench morphed into a thriving full-time business for Christie, supported by her husband, mother and sister. The earrings are now made of acrylic in all shapes, sizes and in all shades of colour with choices of glitter, matte or gloss. Each pair is unique, having been carefully designed, created and marketed by Christie and her team.
“The ideas for new earrings just come to me all the time. I get inspiration from colours, designs or anything that catches my eye. I recently saw a great pattern on the floor of a pub and quickly took a photo of it! My mind is never far away from the creative side,” she says.
Christie’s family-owned and operated business is ever evolving. Each year in the lead up to Anzac Day and Remembrance Day she creates a collection of earrings that pay tribute to Australia’s, and her own, military heritage. The profits of these go directly to organisations that support veterans.
Tragically, her brother, Robert, was killed in a road accident in 2022.
“Our family, as I had always known it, was now broken forever.”
Although deeply traumatised, Christie wanted to pay tribute to Robert, and so curated a collection of earrings based on the artwork that adorned his bedroom walls. From this, Zest for Life was born, with Christie stating that she knows he’d want her to get on with life.
“He loved women and they were drawn to him. He’d love the idea that he’s swinging off the ears of women all around the world,” she says, laughing.
“This series of earrings opened my eyes and I realised that people love a sense of connection and a story. A cause and a purpose. Now, with everything we do, we try to find that connection to our audience. We’ve recently collaborated with a cancer charity in Australia, for example. Saying that, it’s still very important that I also stay true to my own vision.”
That vision, Christie tells us, is to encourage all to connect on a deeper level and to act with fearlessness. And through the development of that vision, she has discovered her true life passion.
@denteddiva
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Army, Poet - Author
George was born in 1934 in Beachborough, Western Australia and, like most of his generation from the Great Depression, was taught the values of life and respect for others. He was familiar with hand-me-down clothes, patched pants, bare feet and, often, scant food on the family table.
“My mother was a wonderful, hard-bitten pioneer Australian woman. Tough, resourceful and resilient with a brilliant humour which, I believe, I was fortunate enough to emulate. It prepared me for the unseen hazards of life,” remembers George.
As was expected of the working class at the time, he left school early to help add to the family budget.
“I enlisted into the army with five school mates when we were all seventeen. The Korean War had started and it was not unusual for youngsters to step forward and join up. Training was demanding and tough and there were no excuses. But it wasn’t torture and it served a purpose,” says George.
“Being in the army developed team and individual pride. My mates, including World War II veterans, really protected me as I was the youngest. As time went by, the survivors of these rough and tumble blokes reflected with immense pride that young Georgie became a one-star General.”
George served in Korea, the Malayan Emergency, Malaysia and on the Thai border. He was also commissioned from the ranks and served in the Vietnam War.
“I was planning to get out after six years, when I was 23, and study. However, my bride, Maureen, much wiser than me, encouraged me to matriculate at night school and supported me through many difficult and challenging obstacles. Sadly, she had a heart attack at a very young age, leaving me with four small children.
“The true heroes during time of war in all generations are the wives and families who keep the home fires burning. I later met and married the second love of my life, Helen. She arrived on the scene and just took over from where Maureen left off. She was a perfect lady. She, like Maureen, was very much a part of my success as husband, father and soldier.”
From 1980 to 1982, as a Lieutenant-Colonel, George set up the army’s Battle School (later renamed the Jungle Training Wing) at Tully in Queensland. His orders from the Chief of Army were, “I want it to be on the very edge of the battlefield.” He designed it to provide combat training for some of the most unforgiving environments imaginable. His quotes still adorn the walls there, as a reminder for soldiers, of all ranks, to hone individual and collective skills. One has become legendary and is now simply known as The Oath.
The oath to serve your country did not include a contract for normal luxury and comforts enjoyed within our society. On the contrary, it implied hardships, loyalty and devotion to duty, regardless of your rank.
Not satisfied with army retirement, in 1983 George became a reservist and went to Townsville to the 11th Field Force Group as the Assistant Commander. From there, he was promoted to Colonel and later to Brigadier. He served as Commander of the 11th Infantry Brigade and remained in this role until 1991.
George holds strong beliefs about what he’s learned from his many, and varied, life experiences. His memories of Korea are that it helped him mature and appreciate how wonderful Australia is. In Vietnam, sheer admiration for the conscripts.
“In Malaya I learned to follow officers because that’s your job. Also, that there is more than one way to skin a cat or to punish a bloke.
“I’m not really a chauvinist. I also learned from the two beautiful women in my life about maturity, responsibility and love.
“It’s knowing, understanding, valuing and appreciating people that matter in life. I often say that anyone can wear a uniform, but not everyone can be a disciplined individual who sets the standards,” says George.
In his retirement, George (as “Warrie” George) has become a prolific poet and published author. His textbook, Junior Leadership on the Battlefield, is now in its third edition. George has also written a fictional novel, The Mad Galahs, about the mateship, humour and camaraderie that he experienced in military life. He’s also published a collection of short stories and verse, titled, The Spirit of Australia. This has also had a second print and George is described in the foreword, as ‘lconic and patriotic, with a great zest for life.’
George’s poetry reflects life around him and he always tries to find a point of optimism to finish each piece of work. His themes are often of resilience, purpose and pride in the human condition. To live what he preaches, George is currently working on his fourth book, Reflections.
George claims his passion for writing was born from the trials of life and because of the levels of stupidity impacting on our nation - particularly in recent, challenging times.
Above all is his belief that our history is a proud one and must never be distorted.
“It’s a history which must always be part of a school’s curriculum,” he adds, firmly.
One of his peers says of George, “Such is the overwhelming respect for this man that soldiers and officers alike still refer to him as Sir.”
Sleep
If I could only sleep the sleep of sleeps
To capture sweet deeds I can keep
In the cloak of night greet blissful rest so rare
To dream of peace and even love should I dareI cannot escape this shrinking smothering room
Painted with spite, hate and terrible doom
I am shackled to the past and never to be free
Deep sleep in pure white sheets is not to beOh to be deaf to shrieks and howls spat from spiteful guns
Blind to flitting silent shadows mid the last rays of dying suns
Be gone the shuffling file of haunted faces never to smile again
If only a welcome storm to wash away the guilt and painIn this lonely bed, to dream of peace, goodwill and love
To walk mid young green forests reaching high above
To hear the joyful welcome calls of feathered birds so bright
To shut out the darkness of yesterday and seek tomorrow’s light.George Mansford
(c) September 2016
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Army, Painter
James can’t remember a time when he didn’t want to be a soldier. Growing up in Canberra, he and his brothers would explore the Australian War Memorial on Saturday mornings while their mother shopped. He learned a lot about Australian military history through the art and relics on display there, as well as through his father, who was a journalist and an oral historian.
In 1991, at University in Melbourne studying to be a teacher of History and Politics, James joined the University Reserve Support Company. Choosing to then enlist full-time into the Infantry, he went to Duntroon. However, upon developing Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Glandular Fever, he was medically discharged. Returning to Melbourne, he joined the 5th/6th Battalion, Royal Victoria Regiment (RVR) and, later, the Bendigo Regional 8th/7th Battalion, RVR, as a reservist, where he served for seven years.
It was during this time that General Sir Peter Cosgrove integrated some reserve units into regular battalions to go to East Timor with the United Nations mission to support that country’s move to self-government. James' Bendigo unit was part of this integration. The result was A Company in the 5th/7th Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment. James was sent to Darwin to train for five months and, from here, he flew to East Timor.
It was only when he returned to Australia that James realised how affected he had been by the deployment.
“I knew fairly soon after I got home that I wasn’t doing brilliantly. That was one of the reasons I did a visual arts course with the Victorian College of the Arts (VCA). It gave me something to focus on.
“My artwork, Eyes of the Damned, was a self-portrait and an attempt to visualise my fifteen-year struggle with Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and depression after operations in East Timor. It attempts to externalise the thoughts and feelings in the dark places of the ‘Black Dog’. It shows the eyes of the damned; damned by the conditions of PTSD and depression, by the ability to take another person’s life and how none of these things fits into civilised places. It is a life understood only by those I served with.”
His battle with depression continued. James and his wife, Myfanwy (Miffy) and their daughters, Molly and Jessie, moved back to the Mornington Peninsula from Bendigo.
“It was hard for me. I had built a safety net in Bendigo. That move was probably as difficult as coming back from East Timor. At that point, art was one of the few emotional releases I had. I’m not particularly articulate about my emotions and that was how I managed.”
James graduated as a teacher of History, Politics and Humanities and worked as a teacher and librarian in various schools for seven years. During this time, he escorted a school tour of the World War 1 battlefields in France. Here, he collected shrapnel wherever he found it. These relics united his childhood memories, his military and teaching careers and his art. James used them as stimulus material for his university art project on ‘found objects’. After photographing each item, he drew a corresponding image and then had the images morph into a final drawing, most poignantly, of a skull.
While James’ pieces are very personal, they’ve reached a much wider audience. His works were selected to be part of a travelling art exhibition for the Shrine of Remembrance and he was placed in the top ten of the Napier Waller Art Prize in 2019. James was also included in the Australian National Veterans Art Museum’s (ANVAM) International Veterans’ Art Exhibition during the Invictus Games. He has been a strong, and constant, supporter of ANVAM and of the work they do for the veteran community.
James’ art is changing, just as he is. He’s exploring sculpture and printmaking.
“I want to get outside more, to paint. I’m also interested in life drawing.
“There’s a therapeutic side to making a lino cut; a repeated action that is also true of applying paint or pastel or pencil. It certainly gives me a kind of peace. It’s become a way of expressing things that I have no other way of expressing.”
In art, James has found both peace and success.
@Farquo67
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Army, Author
Horses have always been part of Jennifer’s life. Growing up on a rural property on the outskirts of Sydney, she continued riding right into adulthood. Enlisting in 1979, even her military postings to Singleton and Puckapunyal acknowledged her love of the country way of life.
“It was the post-Vietnam War era and there were few deployments. There were a lot of changes in policy. It felt like they didn’t really know what to do with women in the services. Things have improved, but there are still areas that need to be looked at.”
When Jennifer left the army, writing became an important part of her life.
“When my horse contracted the Hendra virus and died, I wanted people to know how dangerous this virus was. The impact on my family was huge. I had two young daughters and I was handling a horse with a deadly disease that transferred from bats to horses to humans. What would happen to my girls if I contracted the virus?” she says.
Jennifer’s book, Spillover: A Memoir, was published in 2008, when fatal cases of the virus were still active in Queensland. She later published two fiction novels in the Opal Dreaming series for a younger audience, wanting the books to be instructional about training and handling horses in a way her audience could relate to. She also wrote short stories for this audience.
“I remember devouring any, and all, horse books when I was a child and I wanted to write something that would make a reader say, ‘So that’s how you do that!’”
To learn more about her craft, Jennifer completed a Masters degree in Creative Writing. She loved her studies and chose to base her dissertation on short stories.
“Award-winning writing is very subjective, and sometimes I still don’t get it! The short story genre always appealed to me in particular as it has to be really precise and there’s more discipline involved. I really like the one I’m working on at the moment. In a novel, I tend to lose track of the characters and what they’re doing as the story develops,” she laughs.
Jennifer’s life and writing never ventured far from her military experiences. Together with fellow-veteran Melanie Hill, they produced an anthology, Our Spirit.
“It’s not a historical book, but rather a collection of stories, essays, poems, letters, emails, photos and artwork by Australian service women who served from 1960 to today as a creative representation of their service and offering a valuable insight into their personal experiences.”
In the latter part of her career, Jennifer volunteered her time conducting creative writing workshops for veterans with Mates4Mates and other ex-service organisations.
“When I started, the walls were often up with the veterans. They had doubts and expressed, ‘Why are we here? How can this help?’ or ‘I can’t write. I’ve never been able to write.’ I’d give them a few words and exercises and hints and off they’d go. By the end, they were so enthusiastic. One veteran wanted to know how he could use words to express himself and how he was feeling. He showed his family and indicated their relationship had started to improve,” she recalls.
“It was about the process - both for them and for me. My writing always looks to the process rather than the product, as the greater issue. Although, herein lies some of the tension, as this may be difficult to define and measure except, as my poem Analyse Me suggests, by the participants themselves.”
Analyse Me ¹ by Jennifer Crane
You want to analyse me?
go ahead
you can
measure the chemicals that flow through me
and test for the sweat on my palms
detect the rapid movement my eyes make
and note the tone and intent of my voice
interpret the language of my posture
and assess the rise and fall of my pulse
but
only I know
the feel of those chemicals coursing through me
and when my palms are wet or dry
what my eyes still see awake or asleep
and the way my body shapes as it does
the pain in the surge and ebb of my blood
and how my voice struggles for controlYou can
dismiss the matter of my gender
and rate me on a sliding numerical scale
classify me in clinical terms
and tick the box into which I best fit
presume from where it has come
and then prescribe the drugs I need to be fixed
but
only I
feel the words I write yet cannot speak
and see the memories as the colours I paint
live my past in the movements of dances I dance
and touch strength through the sculptures I create
inhabit the characters in the plays I perform
and breathe the sound of the tunes I composeYour analysis is yours
but
allow me these my measures
for the stories they tell are mine alone. ²1. Analyse Me by Jennifer Crane Qualitative Research in Psychology Vol 15 2018 Issue 2-3 pages 260-266
2. The poem, Analyse Me, evolved from my desire to understand where and how the creative fitted into the scheme of military veteran mental health treatments in Australia. In 2016, as an Australian Army veteran and a creative writer, I undertook to conduct craft of writing workshops for veterans. However, I found creative arts, in all modes, were not as widely incorporated into treatments and research as I thought. The poem is a creative response to my frustration and disbelief of the results of my research and is a representation of my findings conceptualised to be the clinical and externally measurable treatment modes at one extreme, contrasted against the less definable use of the imagination or the creative at the other. The poem highlights the broad expanse between these extremes. It underlines a view on the difference of gender in treatment and the divide between the detached, clinical analysis and the more personal, intuitive creative response. Analyse Me does not deny the use of one modality over, or to the exclusion, of the other but rather indicates they both have purpose and can be mutually supportive and beneficial.
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Army, Photographer
“I remember sitting in a rowboat in a river. Dad was rowing and I sat between his legs. I could only have been about two years old. As Dad rowed, I watched his wiry arms straining at the oars. My eyes were riveted on a light patch visible on his left arm. It was a band-aid. My earliest memory contains my father’s protective arms around me and the sharp definition of light against dark.”
Both light and dark would always remain an imperative part of Kris’s life.
Although born in New Zealand, Kris grew up in the Blue Mountains in NSW. By day he ran free with his friends in the bush, building rock walls and forts and playing war games. He wanted to be just like his dad, who had fought in the Vietnam War. In the pristine environment of his childhood, Kris would be drawn to exploring the texture, colour, light and shade of the trees and plants in the mountains. He saw their beauty with the purity of a child’s eye.
His dad told stories of Vietnam where he had been posted to Nui Dat with the 161 Field Battery, Royal New Zealand Artillery.
“His stories included respect for a formidable enemy who fought with primitive weapons against the most powerful group of allies in the world.”
Sadly, Kris’s father was most likely infected with Agent Orange, telling his son, “The shit was sprayed all over us”. He was sick for 20 years and was later diagnosed with leukemia and died when Kris was an adult. Kris still feels this loss strongly.
Kris tells us of his love for cooking class during high school.
“Mostly because I was always hungry. I love food,” he laughs.
Joining the army in 1988, the decision was simple and he trained to become a chef. Kris remained in the Australian Defence Force (ADF) until 1991 and, after his discharge, rose rapidly in a hospitality career, which included the Ritz Carlton Hotel in Sydney and a role as Executive Chef for the Brassey Hotel in Canberra.
Kris then began Media Studies at university and started work with the Australian War Memorial as its official videographer and cinematographer. In this role, he was deployed to Bougainville with the ADF in Operation Render Safe. His role was to photograph the work of the Explosive Ordinance teams who were clearing the island of bombs, remnants from World War II. At first, he was frightened by the danger. But this wore off quickly as he worked with such highly professional soldiers.
His next assignment was to the Philippines, again on a humanitarian mission. Here, he felt helpless as he documented, in still photographs and film, the devastation a typhoon had caused to people who had very little, even before the disaster. They had lost everything. At the same time, there were armed rebels in the mountains, always ready to attack the Australians who didn’t carry weapons. His photos from this deployment are now in the National Collection in Canberra and he comments that he is proud of his country.
“We were looking after our neighbours.”
Kris has become an award-winning artist, particularly for his documentary filmmaking. However, his focus has expanded and now he always carries a camera with him.
“It is an extension of who I am,” he says, quietly.
He holds dear the photographic documentation of the last years of his dad’s life. His father hated having his photo taken but tolerated Kris capturing natural poses. It was a special time for both of them. The contrast of darkness and light are strong in this series, as strong as the unbroken bond between father and son.
“I had to do it. It was about honouring my father”.
Kris takes pride in one particular photo, titled My Father’s Spirit Arrives. This was taken at the Australian War Memorial, a place where his father’s war service is recorded and immortalised.
“While I was taking this photograph, the Last Post ceremony was being conducted. I had this notion that my father’s spirit may still be with me and that he’d appreciate that I was taking him to the place where his legacy, and a part of him, can live on.
“When photographing, there’s a moment of looking and getting nothing. Then I’ll take a few more steps and I’ll get a feeling. I just know. It’s innate. I’m excited and I can’t wait to get the photo.
“Sometimes, I look at the image with both eyes open, away from the camera. I let the image go into my heart. Light and dark and the beauty of the moment is paramount.”
@kris_kerehona
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Army, Painter
Memories of Anthony’s childhood hold for him an equal mixture of military life and art. Although born in Queensland, Anthony’s father was in the army, which saw the family live in Singapore, New Zealand and Australia.
“I used to draw all the time. I always wanted to be an artist,” Anthony recalls.
Attending primary school outside of Australia, Anthony was encouraged with his art which saw him win prizes for painting. He and one other student were selected to take a special course in oil painting, which reinforced his love of the medium.
Sadly, he hid his love of painting as an adolescent, when he felt negated by a teacher in his high school art class, putting his brushes aside during this time.
After leaving school, Anthony began an apprenticeship as a painter and decorator. However, he was drawn to the army by what it had to offer. Anthony’s military career was largely in Royal Australian Signals Corp, seeing him sent to England on exchange, to serve with the British Army. Remaining there for two years, the small, coastal village where Anthony lived, was in heavy fog for much of the year.
Anthony and his wife enjoyed all aspects of this deployment, becoming part of the tiny, rural community while also keeping the communication channels open with the Royal Air Force base there. Living in England also gave them the opportunity to stretch their travel legs and they saw as much of Britain and Europe as they could.
“My original aim at realism in my work led me to ask myself, ‘Why paint a photo? I can take an excellent photo, if that’s what I’m aiming for’.”This meandering also showed Anthony the world of the Great Masters, and he was particularly drawn to Monet. It was not Monet’s paintings of lilies that he appreciated however, but his interpretation of nature on a much larger scale.
“I was inspired by the power of art,” says Anthony.
It was during this time that Anthony discovered that his desire to paint was merely hidden, not gone from his life. Upon leaving the army, Anthony made the decision to make art his life’s work.
“Again, I had to put it on a temporary hold. I still had to make a living. But I held onto the dream until I retired,” Anthony recalls.
Anthony and his wife retired to a small coastal town in Victoria, which was reminiscent of the village they lived in when they were in England. Always drawn to portraiture as well as nature, Anthony finally had the opportunity to inject his time and passion into his art.
He began to take art courses and interacted with other veteran artists, who gave genuine encouragement and advice to each other about their work.
“My original aim at Realism in my work led me to ask myself, ‘Why paint a photo? I can take an excellent photo, if that’s what I’m aiming for’.”
His work began to contain a deeper meaning and an individual interpretation.
In his portraiture, Anthony creates canvases that show the nature of his subject. One such painting is of Rach which, in his own words, he describes as “quirky”.
“She turned up at our Unit as a young digger. She was mischievous but good-hearted and never gave up when the odds seemed insurmountable. I tried to show the battle in her that almost all soldiers carry. At times, giving strength and, at others, being the one who needs the strength of her peers.”
Since his retirement from the army, Anthony has developed into a skilled oil painter, building a significant body of work in his home studio where he paints for at least two hours each day. He now laughs as he heeds the comment of a curator friend who tells him to be “controversial.” Anthony enjoys this approach, as his art finally takes him to where he has always wanted to be.
He, proudly and finally, is an artist.
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Army, Actor
Brett grew up 10 kilometres outside Dapto in New South Wales. He remembers spending a large portion of his time alone with his dog.
“I’m thankful for my oldest brother, Jeff, who recognised that I needed guidance, and he introduced me to things like fishing and cricket. Without that, my childhood would have been pretty sad.”
Like most of the men in the area, Brett began working in the nearby coal mine and remained there for eight years. Also working there were his father, his brothers, uncles and cousins.
“I didn’t mind it for the first two years with the money coming in, but I just used to think there was something better,” he recalls.
By the time Brett was 25, he was married with two small children to support. Going to a military recruiting drive one day, he heard a fantastic speaker. They offered Brett income, accommodation, a career path, medical support and a community to support his family.
“When I look back over the years, I still think it was a good decision to enlist,” says Brett.
Brett joined the Australian army and worked his way to becoming a Warrant Officer. He actively looked at being deployed and one of his longest terms was seven months with the United Nations Transitional Authority Cambodia (UNTAC).
“We were there to clean up the remnants of the rebel Khmer Rouge forces who had just melted into the population where they tried to work against the government.”
Brett also served in Afghanistan, Iraq, Bosnia and East Timor. However, he began to suffer mental health issues and developed Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). It was then that he saw an article in the Army News about an arts program being run in Canberra.
“In that course, we shared and laughed and built together. It was the first time I had laughed for a very long time. And those friendships from the course have endured.”
When Brett returned to Wollongong from the arts course, he eagerly joined the local community theatre.
“I auditioned for the part of a US soldier in Iraq who underwent mental health issues. But it was OK because I was now part of a theatre family and I felt at home and supported.”
Since then, his love of acting and theatre has never left him. Brett is given another persona or character, and is able to channel his own ideas and personality into that character.
“In that play about Iraq, I channelled a lot of things that I didn’t even know were part of me. I didn’t know I could build a character using my own background and history and experiences. It was everything, and theatre still gives me that. In fact, when I begin getting stressed, my wife tells me it’s time to do another play,” he says, laughing.
“It talked about how all the different arts streams could help build resilience and communication for all service people. I couldn’t communicate at that stage, so I enrolled in the acting stream and I’m just glad I did. It probably saved me. It pulled me back from a very, very bad place. I needed help with my struggle to communicate. This skill is everything for a Warrant Officer.
After his discharge, Brett and his family moved to Cairns. Once again, he found his niche in a local community theatre called the Rhondo Theatre.
“We have built a theatre family and it’s a safe place. No one is judgmental. You can make a complete fool of yourself and that’s OK.
“Even to this day I apply for anything that enables me to combat the Black Dog. I found I can channel all my built-up anger, anxiety and frustrations and allow these emotions to breathe realism into my characters. A director adds to this by providing a safe space.
“I can see a real difference from where I was when I first went to the arts course in Canberra. I have worked in a movie, Hacksaw Ridge, which was directed by Mel Gibson and it was brilliant to see what happens on a big movie set. I have listened to great directors and mentors who have helped me have confidence in my work. I now build characters and really investigate them,” he reflects on his creative development.
“I currently work with a director who has a different focus and we work as a team. Sometimes that means a compromise but it’s all about bringing out every bit of the character that’s possible. Acting has taught me to laugh again as well as to handle my demons.”
@chieflinkin
@chieflinkin
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Army, Photographer
Creativity surrounded Craig as he grew up. He remembers his dad’s passion for photography and his beautiful old cameras, as well as the landscape and portrait photos that adorned the walls of their home.
As a young man, Craig went on to enlist, spending many years of his military life as a paratrooper. He was also sent to East Timor as the Battle Group Photographer. His own passion for this art form was truly ignited on this trip.
An accident in Afghanistan, some years later, however, put an end to his military career, but not to his artistic pursuits. As part of his rehabilitation, the army posted him to Tasmania and offered him a choice of study options. He successfully completed a Diploma in Photography there and reveled in every aspect of the course.
“The lecturer was fantastic. He had great knowledge as well as an excellent way of teaching. I studied three days a week and was at work in the army the other two days. It worked out well. I did this until my medical discharge,” Craig says.
During this time in Tasmania, Craig focused his studies on what he knew best, and his graduation portfolio included 30 portraits of military veterans. RSL Tasmania heard about the work he was doing, as they were looking for a project as part of their Centenary celebrations. They mutually agreed on expanding the project to 100 portraits and thus Craig toured Tasmania, setting up studios in carports, outdoors, in houses, or wherever suited his purpose.
“That was a great experience. I spent 1-2 hours with each veteran and heard their stories. That way, I was able to get a certain mood for each of them. Looking back, I see that this experience was probably a reflection of my own mood at the time. I wanted to use the same techniques for each of them, while making every one unique. They were all shot in Black and White and all subjects were unsmiling. I asked each veteran to bring an object of meaning, from their military days. It was their story, not mine.”
At the same time, the Australian Institute of Professional Photography (AIPP) was putting together a collection of all remaining World War 2 veterans, called Reflections. Hearing about Craig’s work, they asked him to complete their collection with the few remaining veterans in Tasmania.
Looking back, Craig can see his own development as a person reflected in the changes in his creative skill and style as a photographer.
“In the beginning, it was about the soldier and I was focused on individual portraits.”
His involvement with the AIPP encouraged him to challenge himself more.
“You need a thick skin to allow your work to be critiqued by them, as they are professional photographers who pick your work apart. But it was great and I learnt a lot,” he laughs.He uses an example to show the change in his art.
“I had the idea of setting up three diggers from different wartime experiences. I called it Three Wise Veterans. The uniforms reflect soldiers in the Vietnam and Iraq conflicts. There is also a demarcation line on the table, which separates the third soldier from the other two. It wasn’t intended in the original photo and I was considering editing it out. But it stayed because it shows that, when you are back in Australia, you can’t speak about your experiences in war, for many reasons. I entered this photo in the Matthew Flinders Art Prize and won. It wasn’t a military competition so that spurred me on. Then, in 2022, I was shortlisted for the Napier Waller Art.
“Recently, I’ve been working on the theme of Why War? This links with the current conversation around veteran suicide. There’s been a lot of talk about it in the past, but no real action taken, until the Royal Commission. I’d like my photos of this theme to hang in the foyer of an RSL, or somewhere like that, to keep the issue in front of people.”
Craig sums up his creative passion and how it impacts on his life.
“As a photographer, I’m not just taking portraits, but also using my art to ask questions. I create art to start the conversation about military service and the realities of war. It’s also my mission to bring the joy of photography to veterans in Australia, as a way for them to practice mindfulness and meaningful engagement.”
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Air Force, Musician - Singer - Poet - Photographer
Glenn’s childhood was an ever-swaying pendulum between the male role models in his life. It swung from having to play the role of protector for his mother and siblings against his father’s domestic abuse to witnessing great compassion from his stepfather and an Aboriginal friend’s dad, Ken.
“Possessing humble decency, Ken would suddenly appear at our doorstep, his kindly eyes always glistening against his beautiful, dark skin, holding a box of fruit and vegetables at the very moment my mother ran out of money to feed my sister, myself and my two younger brothers.”
Born with a gift of being able to sing, Glenn was enveloped in a sense of joy when he was surrounded by music.
“Unfortunately, it was a gift discouraged and ridiculed,” he says.
Opposing forces in young Glenn’s life were again at play. He endured mockery from his influential figures and became locked in a lifetime of denial about his talent. Yet, his grandma’s words to him, at eight years old, rang strong and helped him maintain a grip on what would, eventually, bring him his greatest contentment.
“Glenn, you have an amazing gift. Never stop singing,” she said.
In 1974, his family was seemingly destroyed when his mother placed Glenn and his brothers into the Church of England Homes for Children at Carlingford, Sydney, just months after Glenn had sung as a boy soprano at the opening of the Sydney Opera House. Finding factory work, his mother attempted to dig her way out of destitution However, fate would cruelly upend his mother in that period, as an industrial accident rendered her unable to ever work again.
Fate intervened again, but this time fortuitously. Glenn’s mother met a World War II navy veteran who fell in love with the remnants of his long-suffering mother. He opened his heart to Glenn’s mother and supported her to the extent that she could retrieve her children from the homes just as foster care was being considered. They later married.
Tragically, in 1987 Glenn and his brothers were orphaned a second time when his mother and stepfather died, just eight weeks apart. Glenn, still a young man, sacrificed a burgeoning professional music career to move back into the Housing Commission home in Sydney’s outer western suburbs. From here, he worked two jobs and guided his brothers into careers.
At 26, Glenn joined the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) and it was the first time that he felt a lightening of the burden of being responsible for others. This was a pivotal moment, where he could put his unfortunate life behind him and look towards a positive future.
Glenn enlisted as a Clerk Supply and, after recovering his decimated education, was commissioned as a Logistics Officer. He became a Leadership Facilitator for Non-Commissioned Officers at the RAAF’s School of Post Graduate Studies’ Airman Leadership Flight. Following commissioning, he became Directing Staff at the RAAF Officers’ Training School. Promoted to Squadron Leader before retiring in 2010, his last official positions were as an Air Force Leadership Officer at the Centre for Defence Leadership and as an Honorary Aide-de-Camp to two successive Governors of Victoria.
Glenn valued the structure of military life that had been absent from his childhood and made friends for life among trainers, students, workmates and superiors. However, he was also exposed to instances of unacceptable behaviour during his service, which plunged him into Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
Marrying in 1990 and raising a young family, Glenn realised that he desired more than what the Australian Defence Force (ADF) could provide.
“I had contributed enough, and left with gratitude for all the development, opportunities and friends the ADF gave me.”
Glenn’s focus was now on his three children, and keeping them safe from the traumas of the childhood that he had endured.
“The most beautiful humans I’ve ever known.”
His own experience as a victim/survivor of abuse led Glenn to becoming an active ambassador and State Chair for White Ribbon Australia, which advocates for women who experience domestic violence.
“I’m a feminist,” he proudly declares.
Having been denied his creative life as a child, and masking it in the military, it was time for Glenn to finally allow his creative self its full expression.
As Glenn today sits with a microphone slung over his shoulder, he considers it a metaphor. His creative life is on the verge of flourishing. He now has the opportunity to appreciate and develop himself as a musician, a photographer, a poet and an author.
Glenn is, finally and fittingly, a respected musician who is writing and producing his own music.
“I am the classic Billy Elliot! It’s time to banish the voices that left me like an injured tiger in a paper cage.
“It’s my time.”
@buzz_may
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Army, Comedian
Jarryd was born in Fremantle, Western Australia and remembers a childhood of looking down the long, narrowing lines of the family-owned vineyards, where sheep grazed and fed among the vines. He and his brother delighted in mustering these animals, at speed, much to the horror of both his parents and the sheep.
Jarryd admits that his later choice of career as a stand-up comic would have been the last thing on his mind. At family gatherings, he was simply seen as a goofball.
As a schoolboy, he recalls, “I was always funny.” But this translated as ‘distracting of other students’ on his report cards. He would perform, ad hoc, at large shopping centres with self-written scripts and improvisations.
“I didn’t make any money from it,” he says, laughing.
In 2006, Jarryd enlisted in the Australian army, within the Royal Australian Infantry Corps. He was posted to Lavarack Barracks in Townsville, Queensland, where he spent over six years. During that time, he served a seven-month deployment to East Timor on Operation Astute. He remembers the graffiti and murals painted throughout this small country, which opened his eyes to the power of art as a way of expressing a strong emotion.
“In this case, it was about injustice. It was a means of expression rather than a work of art to be admired.”
Jarryd’s creativity came to the fore in the military in his ability to plan and to lead others. In ‘mud mapping’, for example, he was given the task of planning how to lead a group of soldiers in a particular terrain. While his peers spent many minutes verbally explaining their ideas in detail, Jarryd was prepared with tiny flags collected from fast-food outlets and a bag of tiny plastic soldiers and other props. By visually showing his plan, he was able to explain it in just a few minutes. This, and his ability to speak clearly and positively to a group of people, inspired confidence in his leadership.
As happened with many of his army cohorts and their post-military careers, the pendulum swung and he transitioned from a military infantry man to a civilian chef.
“It didn’t help too much in a resume that I could clean, arm and disarm a rifle,” Jarryd laughs.
On an evening off from his work as a chef, Jarryd occasionally enjoyed an Open Mic night. This involved a variety of stand-up comedians with a five-minute time slot each. He started to consider trying his own talents and it took him four weeks to summon the courage to sign up. Recalling his first night, he says he took to the stage and ‘bombed.’ To add to his humiliation, the small room was packed with workmates.
“I went from being the funniest person at work to being the least funny person in front of an audience,” he recalls.
“I quickly learned that a good comedy routine takes a lot of preparation.”
Working as a professional comedian, Jarryd now spends his week opening his mind to ideas based on life around him, planning and thinking, before putting pen to paper. He also researches his upcoming audience to learn as much about their demographic as possible. Before he takes to the stage on the night of a performance, Jarryd gauges the reaction of fellow comedians and his planned routine can change - even at the last minute.
“I had a gig in Perth once and went onstage five minutes after the Perth based West Coast Eagles football team lost the grand final playoff to Collingwood. I could see that most of the audience were disengaged and constantly looking at their phones for an update of the score. In that environment, I took to the stage. I began with a rundown of the opposing team, Collingwood, and the common belief that football fans from all over the country disliked this team. The audience was surprised, and immediately they were with me.
“In comedy you can’t lie. If the audience stops believing you, there’s nothing to hide behind. It’s very humbling. You’re only as good as the last ten seconds of your routine.”
The Australian National Veterans Arts Museum (ANVAM) reached out to Jarryd, as a veteran artist, when he was preparing for the Melbourne Comedy Festival. They offered to help promote his work in any way they could.
“Overall, veterans struggle in creating a community and I was blown away by the work that this volunteer organisation does for us. I decided to repay the service by volunteering for them, when Covid-19 cancelled the Festival.
“I soon realised that I was receiving so much more than I was giving. I was becoming involved in the rich tapestry of the lives of veterans, who were being offered creative ways to live their lives post-military.”
@jarrydgoundrey
@Jarryd Goundrey
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Army, Painter
Jess grew up in a small town in the Flinders Ranges in South Australia. She remembers pulling a cart, filled with her art supplies, to the home of a female artist who never spent a day without a paint brush in her hand. Twelve-year-old Jess loved this time.
“Her name was Jean, and she had an art studio where women chatted, painted, took classes and were happy being together. For Jean, art was about freedom. There was no right or wrong way to create.
“When I joined the army, no one saw it coming…..even me.”
After finishing high school, Jess spent a few months contemplating a career in hospitality. But then her thoughts turned to working as a steward in the army when she saw an opportunity to join as a Gap Year. She was also fluent in Indonesian and thought she may find a role as a translator.
“I thought, if I like the army I’ll stay for a while. If I don’t like it, I’ll leave and work in a hotel or restaurant.”
After enlisting, Jess remained in the military for thirteen years. During those years, she worked as a steward, a driver and, finally, a multi-media technician. In this latter role, Jess knew that she’d finally found her place.
“I didn’t know this job even existed! How did I spend all of this time in the service without knowing about it? I could have been training in this area right from the beginning, as it just felt so right for me.”
She relished the work and was deployed to Kuwait for seven months. Here, Jess was stimulated by the company of soldiers in the Coalition who were from all over the world including the United Kingdom, America and Germany as they worked together on Information Operations in the fight against ISIL.
“That deployment. We just all worked so well together. It was the highlight of my career as I felt like I was finally doing what I’d been trained for.”
While serving in the army, art remained a part of her life. Jess began airbrushing in 2012 by taking classes in this art form. Then, in 2015, her instructor suggested she try body art as the Australian Body Art Festival was coming up. Her work won first place in the airbrush category.
“At that time, I’d airbrush anything that would stay still long enough. One of my best experiences was body painting a pregnant Mum. She was so beautiful and resilient. It was a great experience for all of us,” she laughs.
An evocative set of Jess’s work was exhibited at the Adelaide Fringe Festival in February 2022, as part of the Australian Defence Force Creative Arts Association’s body of work. Jess painted three large, airbrushed acrylics on canvas, each one with a hand grenade at its centre. One has the grenade surrounded by coloured pencils and art materials, another is surrounded by sweets and treats, while the third is lying among brightly coloured flowers.
“Overall, the trilogy is about my feelings of apprehension and being ‘out of place’, just waiting for the next chaotic event to explode in my world. Every now and again, I feel as if things are going well and then life explodes again. It’s like being on a roller-coaster. I’ve struggled to put down roots, just as plants do, and build relationships, but there’s always an expiry date in the army, as transfers happen and it’s time to move again. I’ve gone into every relationship with an exit plan, knowing I’d be leaving eventually.
“I also struggle with body image, as expressed by the painting of sweets. Even though I feel happy in myself, I still feel the need to fit in and meet the army standards every day. There’s a push-pull feeling, like Imposter Syndrome. I’m so proud of my service but it’s been a hard slog at times, both physically and emotionally.
“As far as my artwork goes, I constantly self-censor. Especially because some of my work, like body painting, can walk the line of ‘appropriateness’. I’m cautious with what I paint and post online as I am always aware of defined standards set by the army. I’m always careful that what I do and create is appropriate. In saying that, I try to stay true to myself as best I can.”
As Jess transitions from the army, she is aware of the limited time she has spent with her family because of her service. She’s keen to continue offering that service as a reservist, but she is excitedly planning to return to her family and her roots, in a small town in South Australia.
“My dream direction is to open an art studio where people just rock up, pay for the supplies they use, tea, coffee, whatever, and work in the studio. An open, creative space.”
There’s a sense of symmetry in these plans, and perhaps there will be a young girl in that town, with a trolley of art material, who may find her way to Jess’s studio.
@flythecoopcreations
@fly the coop creations
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Navy, Photographer
Born and bred a country kid, Lauren grew up just outside Ballarat in Victoria. Life was good and she fondly remembers playing with her younger brother.
“He was the creative one in the family. He could draw anything. I was so jealous! And Dad could sketch well, too. I didn’t seem to get that gene.”
When she reminisces on those days, she also remembers the thousands of photos that her father captured, and that were always a visual part of her life.
For her sixteenth birthday Lauren was gifted her first camera – a Canon. To this day, it’s still the only brand she chooses to use. A family road trip to Tasmania shortly after, saw Lauren make good use of her Canon. Her Mum’s positive commentary about the quality of her photography encouraged Lauren to begin looking at objects from as many different angles as possible and she began capturing common household objects in fascinating ways.
At school, Lauren’s love was science, rather than the creative arts. Undecided about where her future might lead her, she went to a university Expo, with every kind of career available for her consideration. She stopped at the military stand, where she began chatting to a navy representative. She remembered, fondly, how she would drag her grandfather to the coastline as a small child, to watch the ships, of all description, sail by. This seemed like something that may be of interest to her.
Lauren enlisted and was trained as a Hydrographic Surveyor. Her strong science background was a bonus as she learned to create detailed charts of both oceans and land masses. Based in Queensland, Lauren surveyed the northern coastline from Cairns to the Kimberleys in Western Australia.
One particularly exciting time in Lauren’s naval service was spent in Papua New Guinea (PNG), surveying the coastline.
“It reminded me of being in a National Geographic magazine. We lived on the naval vessel and visited the local people who were living in traditional huts and villages.
“One of Australia’s support roles for PNG was to survey and document outlying islands. There was one island off the mainland that was about six or eight hours away. It hadn’t been charted since the 1920’s and there was a lot of information to update. On the way, we passed two small island outcrops that had never been charted. It may sound strange, but we imagined how the first European explorers must have felt when they discovered new lands!”
Lauren was excited about an upcoming posting, which included another trip to PNG. However, it was at this time that she started experiencing severe pain and unexplained spasms in her back. Regretfully, this left Lauren unable to work and she was medically discharged.
This condition has not left Lauren, and its attacks are random and without any triggers. The frustration of her health having such control over her life led Lauren to depression.
“I didn’t pick up my camera for years.”
She felt that the best way to offer service to her community was by becoming a volunteer with the National Trust. As a volunteer, she had some control over her hours and her ability to work, when she was able.
Through meeting other veterans, she was encouraged to attend an Australian National Veterans Arts Museum (ANVAM) series of painting workshops.
“I can’t paint to save myself. But they encouraged me to pick up my camera again. I discovered that my passion for photography was buried, not dead.”
Lauren now devotes a large portion of her week to being a volunteer guide at an authentic bluestone mansion and stables called Barwon Park, run by the National Trust at Winchelsea in country Victoria.
“There’s so much to photograph. In quiet times, I sit with my camera and look for how the light plays on the building, inside and out. Through constant practice, I’m learning how to use my camera better. It’s incredibly therapeutic – both physically and mentally,” she says enthusiastically.
It was here that she also met Doug, who lovingly works on the upkeep and restoration of the furniture at Barwon Park. He has become Lauren’s mentor over the past few years and laughingly calls her his apprentice. She’s keen to learn as much as he can teach her as she enjoys the ‘old school stuff.’ Unfortunately, the lockdowns in Victoria and general uncertainty of living with Covid-19 impacted on Lauren’s ability to travel there regularly during 2020/21.
Her painful and intrusive back injury has inadvertently led her to a place of peace and harmony. Lauren now balances that trauma with a focus on her creativity and volunteering role. As so often happens in life, paths taken do not always lead to what is anticipated.
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Army, Poet - Painter - Photographer
Barham spent a lot of his young life on his grandparents’ property near the Victorian township of Ballarat. As a strong young man, he was invaluable on the farm shearing sheep, shoeing horses, birthing goats and burning dead sheep. It developed in him a deep love of animals but didn’t send him down the path his mother had hoped for: to be a professional horse rider. While ride he did, the uniform beckoned from an early age and he joined the Army Cadets in Year 8 and spent the next four years getting a taste for military life.
Joining the Australian Regular Army, Barham served for thirty-two years, before transitioning to the army reserves. He was commissioned at the Royal Military College, Duntroon and retired as a Lieutenant Colonel. During that time, he served on operations in Bougainville, Southern Thailand, South Sudan, Iraq, Israel, Jordan and Afghanistan.
His experiences in these distant lands would become inspiration for many poems and photographs - not just from a military perspective, but also addressing humanity and the environment.
Barham’s art practices include poetry, painting and photography. He is also an ambassador for the Australian National Veterans Art Museum (ANVAM) and is a strong advocate for the use of artistic endeavours to create personal change.
He began writing ‘proper’ poetry while he was in the service and he found the language in it was deep, moulded and liberating. It became an unleashing.
Barham has strong views about what creativity means to him. He would prefer to hear, “See that poet? He used to serve in the military,” rather than “See that veteran? He became a poet.” Even with more than half his life in the military, he strongly believes it should shape you, rather than define you.
“Poetry takes a reader or a listener where your heart and mind want to go. It gives you your own imagery, interpretations of sound and smell, regardless of why I wrote it or what I saw… yet, in some cases, you will see exactly what I saw. I love to see a reaction to something I write that is also in someone else’s life. That’s why I write poetry.”
“I didn’t choose to write on certain topics. They would just come to me. From initial thoughts to completion would sometimes last no longer than 3-4 minutes. I could sit at home on the couch for hours on end and write nothing. Then, on a plane ride from Sydney to Canberra, I could trot out four poems on different subjects.”
When Barham was deployed to Bougainville for seven months, he wrote an astounding 180 poems. At this time, A Feeling of Belonging was published by the ADF Journal and contained twenty-seven of his poems focusing on military themes of both peace and conflict. Many people were reading and liking his writing, so he published his own work; Love, Life & Anzac Biscuits. Although these poems also offer a military focus, they tell a much wider story as they transit through some of life’s major events from an Australian point of view and not just a soldier’s.
“Poetry takes a reader or a listener where your heart and mind want to go. It gives you your own imagery, interpretations of sound and smell, regardless of why I wrote it or what I saw…yet, in some cases, you will see exactly what I saw. I love to see a reaction to something I write that is also in someone else’s life. That’s why I write poetry.”
He also believes that all creative expression needs focus on skill as well as enjoyment, in order to take an artist to the next step.
“Art is a universal language, and a gift to both the creator and the beholder.”
As well as poetry, Barham has always been interested in photography and this has expanded to include painting. As a child, he watched his grandfather paint portraits. The boy liked what the old man created, rather than the process.
“I attempted to recreate my grandfather’s style but found it wasn’t happening. My paintings seem to evolve from my mind, like a Tolstoy novel. When I’m painting, I always consider it time well spent. Creating changes your mindset completely.”
Barham’s life in Canberra today with his teen-aged daughter, Isobel, is a satisfying combination of fatherhood, work and creativity as Isobel also paints.
“The army didn’t create my personality. I had respect for people before I joined, and they just reinforced that.”
This respect he offers Isobel, and those he meets in his daily life and interactions.
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Army, Painter
The daughter of a Vietnam War veteran, Cassie grew up in a small, New Zealand town.
She was creative from an early age and her father encouraged and mentored her passions while ensuring that she learned important life lessons. Using his experiences as a Lead Scout in the Royal New Zealand Infantry Regiment (RNZIR) in South Vietnam, he honed her hunting, shooting and survival skills and strengthened her resilience.
Those early days of outdoor adventures with her father within the natural environment played a strong role in the development of her personal artistic style and chosen subject matter. Her creativity flourished during that early childhood period, both at school and through her various extra-curricular activities, where she was able to explore a range of mixed media techniques, technical drawing, cartooning, Maori bone carving, screen printing, and much more.
She considers herself a true ANZAC, having pride in both her father’s Kiwi heritage and her Australian mother’s family history. As well as her father, she has family members who served in the Australian Imperial Force (AIF) in both World War I and II. It was this lineage, as well as her father’s military service in Vietnam that inspired Cassie to enlist first to the Royal New Zealand Air Force (RNZAF) in 1996, and then continue her service into her current role with the Australian Defence Force (ADF).
By 2021, Cassie had served for over 21 years as an Intelligence Officer specialised in Imagery and Geospatial Intelligence systems and remote sensing. She also completed a research thesis on a Chief of Army’s scholarship in 2019 into information warfare.
She was deployed twice to Iraq, on Operation Catalyst in 2007 and Operation Okra in 2016, and served in Afghanistan in 2012 on Operation Slipper. It was during these deployments that Cassie weighed down her pack with art materials, using art as a means of relaxation.
Her artwork represents subject matter that is equal parts personal and distinctive. Specifically, her war-focused pieces reflect a combination of her military background, her father’s experiences, the importance of mateship, and the harsh beauty of war and its associated landscapes.
“Art is an alternative communication method. It creates a stillness, a mindfulness, and there’s no judgement of whatever marks you want to make on the paper. It’s your own journey.
“You also control the process and decide the outcome, which is often in contrast to our military work where we’re frustrated by a lack of control over situations or decisions that impact our lives.
“As a self-confessed ‘map addict’, I’m interested in landscape ecology, patterns in nature and the interconnectedness of the landscape - where contours could become geological formations or swirling water, or perhaps now it’s tree bark, a Paua shell, or maybe even a fingerprint.”
Cassie’s sporty background, bush craft skills, creativity, and Girl Guide experiences provided a solid foundation for the career she has pursued in the ADF.
“Since joining the ADF, I’ve learnt the importance of understanding the terrain and being able to blend into the geography of the battle space.”
Cassie is passionate about telling her story to other veterans, and society more broadly.
“I want to increase awareness of the role that art plays in creating a dialogue of the impacts of operational service, highlighting important narratives about the subject matter,” she says.
“Art has the power to provide a healing mechanism to veterans, and civilians. It’s a remarkable space we can all look to explore, when going through difficult times.”
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Army, Author
Donna’s uncle, who was serving in the Australian army, challenged her at a family barbecue.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you got off your arse, started behaving yourself and stopped being a dole bludger?” he said.
It was 1979 and Donna was 20 years old and unemployed. She went to the army Recruiting Office just a few weeks after that barbeque and became excited at the idea of joining the military, because it sounded like something at which she could succeed.
She recalls, with a smile, how different the initial training was for women in comparison to men at the time.
“We were given make-up lessons. Our dress uniforms were slightly see-through, so we had to wear stockings and a petticoat underneath or face being charged. We were taught to be ladies, not to be fighters. It was a peacetime army after all.”
She also remembers, with wry humour, when her group of recruits had to admit that they had never been taught how to fire or handle a rifle.
“One day we were instructed to use our entrenching tools as a weapon by pointing them at each other, while loudly yelling, ‘Bang! Bang! Buckets of bullets, buckets of bullets!’ ”
Over the next few years, the army became Donna’s life and, within it, she thrived. It was no longer just a job. She found that she loved working in Signals corps and soon found that it was a solid career move.
However, when she married and welcomed two beautiful little girls into the world, her priorities shifted and Donna wanted to devote her time to her family. She made the decision to leave the army. Yet her love of military life never left her and she became a reservist.
She left the army in 1999. Then, the attack on the Twin Towers in New York on September 11, 2001 exploded onto the world. Donna found this event incomprehensible and felt a burning urge to do something. She made the decision to re-join the army and transferred to the Intelligence corps.
During her absence, she found that opportunities for women in the military had increased monumentally and she embraced every one of those opportunities, when able. Donna also found that there were many inspirational, brave and fearless women fighting for equal rights in what was still a ‘man’s world’. She was deployed six times over a nine-year period to areas such as East Timor, Afghanistan, and a short stint at sea on Border Protection operations.
A memory that will always remain with Donna is the Ramp Ceremony that she experienced, albeit all too frequently, in Afghanistan.
When an Australian soldier has been killed, they are never left alone while preparations are made for their repatriation back home. When ready, every available member of the camp then forms a Guard of Honour as the Australian flag-draped casket travels to the waiting aircraft. A soldier walks in front of the coffin carrying a photo of the deceased soldier. Once the coffin is settled inside the plane, the ramp is raised, and the plane takes off on its journey home. It slowly banks to the left and a red, white and blue flare is fired into the sky. Only then, do the soldiers on the ground release their salute.
Donna's many years of service, including her six deployments, culminated in severe injuries that saw her medically discharged from the army in 2016. A diagnosis of Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety and depression, coupled with physical injuries, saw an immeasurable sense of loss envelop Donna.
As she looked for ways to regain control over her life, Donna attended an Australian Defence Force run arts program in Canberra. She discovered a non-judgmental environment that offered creative writing, drama, music and art. Having been a singer in her early life, Donna loved reconnecting with this passion.
“Singing brought back joy and confidence to my life,” says Donna.
Through the program, she began to heal and found a connection with the Australian National Veterans Arts Museum (ANVAM). This connection, and her support of ANVAM, remains strong to this day.
As Donna gained clarity and her mental health returned, she knew that she had a story to tell and began writing her highly successful novel, Hidden Courage: My Life as a Female Australian Soldier. Donna wanted it to serve as a legacy for her grandchildren so they would know that she wasn’t ‘just their Nanna’ and, instead, was a soldier who had been to war and, like many others, was injured.
Donna also wanted to demonstrate to future generations of women wanting to enlist into the military how she coped, asked for and accepted help and, with strength of mind, kept going.
She had a story that needed to be told.
@donnapriscilla59
@Hiddencourage
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Army, Photographer - Painter
“When I grow up, I’m going to be a soldier just like my dad and my big brother,” declared Gordon, as a small boy who loved playing with his army toys.
Gordon’s childhood evolved from solitary play into a strong love of football and cricket, with all the struggles and rewards that come with being part of a team. Without realising it, his childhood was preparing him for his enlistment into the Australian Defence Force, at 19.
“This is where I belong,” he said, upon enlisting.
His army mates became his new ‘team’ as they looked out for each other, socialised together and were taught how to deal with both physical and mental conflicts. Gordon’s military career totalled 28 years, mostly as a chef in the Infantry.
Unfortunately, Gordon discovered that his military support networks eventually weren’t enough. Upon returning to Australia from a deployment to Iraq, life as he knew it evaporated in front of his eyes. He was medically discharged, diagnosed with Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
“There would be no more playing with big boys’ toys.”
Now, Gordon’s support team became his family. His wife, Shona, became his friend, psychologist, his manager and, when needed, his Commanding Officer. She told him, very firmly, that he needed to find something to replace the passion he had for the army. So Gordon picked up a camera.
Over time his skills were honed, and he became well known as the photographer for the book The Victoria Cross - Australia Remembers, and co-author and photographer of Unconquered - Our Wounded Warriors about the Invictus Games in Sydney in 2018.
Becoming an Australian National Veterans Arts Museum (ANVAM) mentor, his photography was exhibited twice by ANVAM. Firstly it was exhibited in their inaugural exhibition in Melbourne in 2017 and then later at Parliament House, Canberra, in 2018. His photos were shortlisted for the Napier-Waller Art Prize at the Australian War Memorial in 2018, where he was also a finalist in 2019 and 2022.
Gordon’s 2022 portrait, Ricky, was taken at a community lunch in Geelong. Ricky had admitted that he didn’t have a photo of himself and would really like one. When Gordon later gave him a copy of the image, he thanked him with a tear in his eye.
“I had a real connection to Ricky as I asked him to stare straight down the barrel of the lens.”
Looking at life through the camera lens opened a new perspective for Gordon and it was a natural transition from this to canvas. On finishing a self-portrait of his experiences in Iraq, he put down his brush and declared, “Now, I can put those memories away. I’m finished with it.”
Rather than being ‘finished with it’, however, painting became a new beginning for Gordon. He began by gathering discarded artworks to use as canvases. One, an oil painting of a dark, Scottish sky that, upon sanding over, opened his eyes to a different beauty as the new work quietly came through the shadows. His joy is in the creating, rather than the result.
When he talks about his passion for the creative arts, Gordon becomes charged with joy and emotion. He’s alive. His creative gift is dynamic and ever evolving.
Without formal training, his creative mind is an empty canvas and Gordon marvels at artists such as veteran Sidney Nolan and Margaret Olley, whom he finds inspirational. He’s become hungry for learning new ways to create with oils, acrylics and watercolours. He experiments in colours and loves the geometric shapes of Cubism.
“I like asking questions - especially of artists. It opens up new ways for me.”
He paints every day in his home studio, where he has three or four paintings in progress at any time.
“It gives me peace. I can be lost for hours. Time just goes! I know that it makes me enjoy life.”
Gordon looks back at his first, hesitant watercolour paintings and reflects on his artistic journey.
“My art is always a work in progress. You have to start somewhere. It’s something I can keep working on and improving.”
This compassionate, creative man has worked through many challenges with the help of family and friends and now, his art.
“I wouldn’t change a thing. It has led me to where I am.”
@gordontraillphotography
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Navy, Videographer - Photographer
Jason’s formative years were varied and interesting. He was born in Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, where his father worked for the Australian government. When he was seven years old, the family moved from the tropical heat to the icy winters of Canberra.
Growing up in Canberra saw Jason follow a popular path, choosing to enlist in the navy when he was just twenty years old. He had always been drawn to the military as his grandfather was in the Australian Imperial Force (AIF) and his stepfather was conscripted to National Service during the Vietnam War.
Jason’s role as a Boatswain’s Mate meant that he could work on just about any seagoing platform. A few years after his posting, he was given the extended role of Ship’s Photographer and provided the navy with photos.
During his time in the service, Jason was deployed in 2005 to assist victims when an undersea earthquake with a magnitude of 9.1 struck off the coast of the Indonesian island of Sumatra. The people of Banda Aceh recorded the largest number of deaths and the Royal Australian Navy was deployed to assist in the humanitarian response. As well as supporting the clean up of towns completely devastated by the earthquake, Jason used his camera to document the journey and to send photos to the naval administration in Australia.
Jason’s second major deployment was to the Solomon Islands, in a peacekeeping capacity, while their government elections were in progress.
His final posting saw Jason sent to Cairns in Far North Queensland. This was also where he chose to make his home upon being discharged.
As he settled back into civilian life, Jason used the skills he had obtained in the navy and started his own business as a photographer. Beginning with wedding photography, he then moved to commercial work, particularly in advertising. Jason also collaborated on film documentaries, focusing on such things as the fishing industry in Karumba, in the gulfland area of Queensland.
However his heart, and his extended family, remained in Papua New Guinea. Jason was in the process of moving there from Australia, when, in 2020, Covid-19 changed his plans. He was working in his home country when the pandemic broke out but the first anyone heard of its existence was when the borders to Australia were about to be closed.
He returned to Australia but kept the vision of Papua New Guinea in his sights and in his mind.
“I’m now planning on going to live in Rabaul in New Guinea and will work there in advertising. It’s just taking off and photography, especially filmmaking, is the way of the future in that country. I’m also interested in teaching photography up there. Everyone has a camera on their phone but they don’t necessarily know the basics of how to use it. Although Covid changed my plans, I’m still very keen to get back there, where I have family.”
Unfortunately, during the pandemic Jason’s dad became sick and passed away. During this time, Jason moved back to Canberra to support and be with him.
The wheel has certainly turned full circle, with Jason and his dad able to be together in Canberra, and now with Jason choosing to return to the country of his birth.
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Army, Printmaker
“Art or army?” seventeen year old Kat wrote in her diary.
Passionate about both, Kat excelled in her art class at school while also enjoying army cadets. Upon being offered a scholarship to study for her Bachelor of Arts at the Australian Defence Force Academy (ADFA), the answer was easy.
“I felt it was a young person’s career and I was ready to leave the farm and search for adventure.”
Kat also knew that, no matter where she was and what she was doing, she would always keep art in her life. She accepted and signed on for nine years.
Her instincts about a military career were right and Kat received a Queen’s Commission at Duntroon and went on to further study, achieving a Master of Engineering Management and a Master of Military Strategy and Defence Studies.
Her first deployment was to Kuwait as a Lieutenant. Kat loved working in the logistical hub, with a platoon of about forty personnel. They ensured that supplies, ammunition, machinery and various bespoke items were sourced and processed on their way to and from the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. Soldiers needed to be fully kitted and armed before heading to the war zone, while utilised equipment needed to be sent home for refurbishment or disposal.
Just over a year before her deployment, Kat met Andrew, who was in the Armoured Corps. When he returned from Iraq and she from Kuwait, they married in Darwin. Kat had been in the army for five years.
Her second deployment was to Afghanistan as a Captain. She helped run a specialised workshop there, war-fitting and training soldiers on the constantly evolving and upgraded military machinery and equipment. Kat’s 10-year contract was up. However, she knew she wasn’t ready to walk away, so she chose to serve for a further five years.
Kat’s third and final deployment was again to Afghanistan. This time as a Major, her role was to retrain Afghan army and police personnel in order to help them preserve their country’s security after withdrawal of the Coalition military forces.
It was during this time that Andrew’s service caused him to suffer both serious back injuries and deteriorating mental health. His time in Afghanistan was cut short and he transitioned out of the military. His adaptation to civilian life added to his instability.
“It was a long decline,” Kat remembers of those years.
She was still in the ADF, now working in Melbourne, when she joyfully discovered that she was pregnant. Their baby was born perfectly healthy. However, tragically, Andrew, suffering Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) passed, when their daughter was only two years old.
After twenty years of service, Kat knew it was time, once she had finished her term, to focus on both herself and her child.
“I had walked in a fog of shock and grief,” Kat says.
Kat remembers the tremendous support of her family and both her military and non-military friends during this time. Even so, the challenge of living her life was very difficult for her.
These friends and family members supported Kat’s healing, with her plan to walk the 780 kilometre pilgrimage, Camino de Santiago (The Way) in Spain.
Along this journey, she stopped at the Cruz de Ferro monument. Rather than a monument to those who have died, it’s a place to leave a part of yourself in any form that you choose. Kat left a white stone from the Australian War Memorial that had been decorated by her daughter. As she walked away without that small stone, she felt her life load lessen.
Back in Melbourne, Kat successfully applied for a three-year degree in Fine Arts.
“Sometimes, I get exhausted at learning new things. But this is the best kind of labour and learning I could be doing.”
Commenting on a piece of her artwork, Kat says that she has created four maps that represent journeys.
“One was Andrew’s. One, mine. One, our five-year-old daughter’s. The last one might be yours. In another piece, despite being bitterly disappointed about how my image was so underexposed on my copper plate, I have grown to love what the processing fault has created.”
Kat’s photographic etching, Reckoning, was a finalist in the 2022 Napier Waller Art Prize competition.
“The Brereton Report gave Australians a reckoning when it was released in November 2020. I meshed together images of the heavily redacted Brereton Report and the Australian War Memorial, to depict where this reckoning lies. Was that a grainy aerial photograph of a foreign war zone? The acid-burnt holes grew like multiple shotgun wounds across the work’s landscape. I added women in burkas who represent war’s ‘collateral damage’. My artwork urges us to courageously reckon with the unvarnished truth.”
It seems that Kat no longer needs to ask, “Art or army?” Today she ensures that her love of both has remained, becoming a strong and balanced part of who she is.
@kat_a_rae
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Army, Photographer
“For veterans, in particular, I want to promote Post-traumatic growth. To take their experiences and, moving forward, to thrive.”
Mark grew up in Tasmania without any thought of the mainland.
“I went to Melbourne once for a footy match, when I was thirteen,” he laughs.
“Picture this. It was the early 90s and jobs were scarce in Tassie. I tried for years to get an apprenticeship as a motor mechanic, but with no luck.”
At 18, Mark enlisted into the military and it was in the army that he was offered such a role.
However, Mark’s mind was expanded at army recruiting and he elected, instead, to join the Infantry. He remained in the regular army for sixteen years and worked his way up to Sergeant in the Special Forces as a Patrol Commander. During that time, he was a Sniper Supervisor, Demolitions Instructor and Roping Instructor. He specialised in mobility operations and trained local forces on deployment, predominantly Afghans.
“I enjoyed the excitement of the job.”
On leaving the army after a number of deployments, Mark joined the reserves for a further eight years. This time of his career also involved several contract deployments for the regular army.
“In my last six years in the military, I’d spent most of my time working in Kabul as a personal safety consultant for the Australian Embassy. Back in Tasmania, I would have time off between contracts and would take a few people hiking in the remote areas of the island.”
After leaving the military, this interest expanded into a business both within Australia and abroad. Mark also led international adventures and expeditions to countries such as Mongolia, Cambodia, Vietnam, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea and Israel.
“I use a lot of the skills I learnt in the military and from my work as a safety consultant. I help people go beyond their comfort zone, to be OK with being uncomfortable. It’s a unique kind of adventure that appeals to the explorer mindset. My clients learn how to take care of themselves and survive in harsh environments,” Mark explains.
“I laugh at myself because I’m basically working towards doing myself out of a job! After a few trips, they’re able to operate by themselves because of the skills they’ve learned.”
In 2019, Mark was given sponsorship by the Tasmanian Government to conduct the Veterans’ Active Recreation Program, delivering unique outdoor adventure experiences and showcasing career pathways in the ecotourism industry for military veterans.
“The program demonstrates how core military skills like self-discipline, time management and resilience can be harnessed and are highly transferable to employment in the adventure field.”
As an offshoot of this work, Mark has become passionate about photography.
“I used this skill in the military as a sniper and in my reconnaissance work. Now, I use photography as an artistic pursuit. I find it both relaxing and good for my mental health.”
Based on this interest, Mark conducted free online photography training for veterans during Covid-19 lockdowns. From here, his concept of a Veterans’ Photographic Exhibition was brought to life. Showcasing career imagery and accompanying stories from Australian veterans, the Point & Shoot exhibition brings a voice to the unique stories of serving personnel and provides a rare glimpse into the life and experiences of fellow Australians who have served their country. The exhibition is now in its third year.
“It’s not about professional photography, but about sharing some of those moments frozen in time that those who serve our nation thought were worth remembering,” Mark comments.
“What’s been most rewarding has been bringing veterans and communities together. Most Australians don’t ask themselves about the experiences that veterans have gone through. I am humbled by the opportunity to share these stories with the public.
“Sharing and documenting lived experiences is where my passion is at the moment,” he says of his move into videos and short documentary films.
“I want to encourage and help others get more out of life. I don’t want to come to the end of my days wishing I had done more. My experience of facing death and mortality head on has led me to want to lead a life without limits. To not fear death but also to not wait for it. To get on with living.
“For veterans, in particular, I want to promote Post-traumatic growth. To take their experiences and, moving forward, to thrive.”
“I want to encourage and help others get more out of life. I don’t want to come to the end of my days wishing I had done more. My experience of facing death and mortality head on has led me to want to lead a life without limits. To not fear death but also to not wait for it. To get on with living.”
https://www.facebook.com/PointAssist
@point_assist