As a young boy, I would carry around large handfuls of the notorious little green army men. I took them outside to the sandbox and even into the forest on camping trips. If for any reason one of them went missing and the handful seemed too small, I would run and ask my dad to take me to the store. They became disposable to me in this adolescent way, unmistakably forgotten, little plastic men. What I witnessed as a soldier while on deployment to Afghanistan—during the infamous fighting season—were those who paid the ultimate sacrifice and never returned home. For me, fearless, courageous, and inspiring are words that come to mind, for this sacrifice was their very last. Will they too, be mistakably forgotten and become lost over time? And for what, a never-ending war? We could not just go back and “ask dad” to take us to the store for more green men, it’s not that simple anymore. Unsure about the day-to-day future with constant fighting, or even more difficult, a commanding officer dictating to “follow orders” when you know that order will likely result in injury or death; at what point do you tell yourself “I’m now disposable, just like those plastic men.”
How would it feel to be tossed out and forgotten? What does it even mean to be disposable? When I first decided to join the United States Army and serve my country, I had a distinct feeling of pride and honor, a sense of personal worth. I wanted to join the military and become a part of something bigger than myself. I came into service with a large cash bonus as a newly minted recruit, fully trained and ready to head off to war. Afterward, I had to appeal for service-connected injuries with an attorney, to be properly compensated as the now disabled veteran struggling for stability. For some people they believe “disposing” is throwing away their products after use, an item that was intended to be bought cheaply and then discarded. For others, the intention of throwing away the product is to throw away the people who they feel are no longer useful. For me, I feel it was both.
I served with people who referred to themselves as “Disposable Heroes” a likely bunch, who still remain underappreciated for their bravery, service, and sacrifice. Some of those Heroes have even fallen to the ongoing epidemic of suicide. I wanted to create a Pate de Verre bust as the disjointed individual, who became dehumanized from the larger governmental machine—following orders is at great personal risk, even when you know a target is directly on your back. For some, it may have felt like you were used and a cheap product, someone on the front lines of danger, someone who became the tip of the spear, a grunt used in battle to defeat our enemies. To those I say, thank you for your service soldier, for it will not go in vain.
