In the Line of Remembrance
- lrds42
- Nov 6
- 4 min read
In the Line of Remembrance* exhibition currently being held at St. George's Arts Centre, Gravesend, between the 4th and the 23rd of November.
This exhibition is the first I've curated involving other artists. I've obviously curated my own, such as The Soldier's Artist and The Sapper's Artist, held at both St. George's and the Royal Engineers Museum. But this was the first time that I'd curated an exhibition with other people's work.
Those other people were also veterans, and it was an exhibition, for Remembrance Day and remembrance of conflicts past. There are six artists, including myself, and it's a variety of work—from paintings and 2D media to 3D media such as digital art, sculpture, and even dioramas.
I installed on the 3rd of November, which in itself was an experience. I kind of knew where I wanted to go and what I wanted to achieve, but I very much let the art speak for itself, identifying areas for each artist to have so their work was collectively together—a little space solely for them.
The work itself is very eclectic. I have works from Shaun Maloney, who's created a really moving piece around VC winners from Ulster, as well as a powerful painting of a soldier with his head in his hands. There’s digital work from Ian McCarthy, who gives us intimate photographic portraits of veterans injured in conflict and their lives post-service. Kye Robertson builds dioramas and models that are incredibly lifelike and bring the scenes to life.
Richard May and Julia Stevenson both bring small but powerful works. Richard’s pieces reflect his personal experiences—*HMS Bulwark*, his brother-in-law who sadly passed away, and a memorial statue that he painted. Julia contributes the only abstract piece, but again, it’s deeply moving in its own way—similar to how Picasso’s Guernica is an abstract yet profoundly emotional piece of war art.
My own work: I didn’t plan to exhibit as much as I did, but I ended up displaying more simply to fill the space. It’s a collection of older and newer works—oil paintings of poppies and soldiers, large pieces such as Trooping the Colour, and a snapshot of Ypres with a river of poppies that almost looks like a river of blood. Also on display are 3D painted skulls—one in poppies and another in turquoise and gold called Decadence, representing the dichotomy of war: how people profit from it at the detriment of others.
I was asked by Gravesham Borough Council to curate this exhibition. They told me they’d always had trouble garnering interest from the veterans’ community, especially artists, so I threw myself into the task to form an exhibition featuring veterans only.
The reason I find that important is because I believe that art is the language of humanity. As artist and activist Richard Kamler once said: “Art is our one true global language. It speaks to our need to reveal, heal, and transform. It transcends our ordinary lives and lets us imagine what is possible.”
I believe that’s a really powerful statement. For veterans who have experienced so much, art can be a healing and transformative medium—a way to express experiences that can’t always be articulated. The human brain doesn’t think in words—it thinks in images. When we dream, we don’t dream in text; we dream in pictures. So art becomes a way for the mind to communicate what words can’t. That’s why it was so important to me to get this exhibition off the ground.
However, I didn’t realise two things. First, like the gallery, I would struggle to get people to exhibit. I expected lots of interest, but that wasn’t the case. In fact, three artists dropped out the week before installation, which confused me—until I realised, on the 3rd of November during installation, that some of these artists had never exhibited before.
Seeing their expressions, their pride, and their sense of self-worth as their art was hung in a real gallery was a wonderful thing—something I’d like to do more often. I remember feeling that validation myself during my first solo show at the Royal Engineers Museum—the sense that I’d “arrived” as an artist.
It reminded me of something I’d forgotten: it takes courage to exhibit your work. It takes courage to put your head above the parapet and say, “Here I am. This is who I am, and this is what I do.” To display your work to strangers—knowing they may critique it—takes heart. I applaud those veterans who took that step and displayed their art alongside mine.
I’d really like to explore this further in the future. I’m very keen to deliver a four-day course combining art and neuro-linguistic programming, which I’m currently designing. I hope to launch it next year, aimed at veterans.
The average person experiences one to six traumatic events in their life. For emergency services personnel, it’s four to six hundred. For military personnel, it depends greatly on where they served. For example, I served in Bosnia, which wasn’t too traumatic, but a year later in Kosovo, it was incredibly traumatic—six months of ongoing incidents. Many veterans share similar experiences.
Creating a program that gives them a creative outlet to process and express those experiences through art is, I believe, a deeply worthwhile cause. Art can unlock trauma and help heal. And bringing more art into the world can only ever be a good thing. I genuinely believe that art—or being an artist—is the key.
So, if you're in Gravesend, local to Gravesend, Kent, or even want to travel down at the weekend and have a look, the In the Line of Remembrance exhibition is on at St. George's Arts Centre between now and the 23rd of November.
Come along and view it—some of the work is for sale. Support your veterans, support your veteran community, and leave a message in the visitors’ book. But most importantly, immerse yourself in the brilliance of our veteran community.
Thank you for reading this post. Thank you for reading this blog. I’ll be back again soon.
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