Artist Ed Drew’s life has covered significant ground. He grew up in Brooklyn, was deployed to Japan while in the Air Force, went to art school in San Francisco, joined the California Air National Guard and was deployed to the Helmand Province of Afghanistan as a helicopter aerial gunner with a United States Air Force Combat Rescue Unit in 2013. He’s now settled in Arkansas, where he met his wife and where two of his five children were born while he was stationed at Little Rock Air Force Base in the early 2000s. Through it all, Drew has used his artist’s eye to document what he’s seen. While deployed in Afghanistan, he was the first photographer to document a combat zone using tintype photography since the Civil War.
“I like the physicality of sculptures,” says the graduate of the San Francisco Art Institute. “I like the ability to create something from nothing. With tintypes, they’re sculptural — you have to really work with it, like with clay and ceramics. You have to be really careful not to mess up — if there’s a bubble in ceramics, it will explode in the kiln. Same thing with tintypes — if there’s a mistake with the chemicals, the whole thing is ruined. That’s what I really love about it.”
Drew says he was contemplating another series involving military veterans when Christina Shutt, director of the Mosaic Templars Cultural Center, approached him with a proposed commission.
“We’re always interested in telling untold stories,” notes Shutt. “We looked, and it didn’t seem like a lot of people had done exhibits focused on African-American veterans and their experiences. The unique way in which Ed documents through tintype felt unique and interesting, and we wanted to bring that to Arkansas, to the people in the region, to give them an opportunity to learn a little bit about the way these vets have continued to have an impact on the state.”
Thus was born “We Hold These Truths: American Veterans of Arkansas.” Using more than 30 tintypes, a handful of cyanotypes printed from silver gelatin glass-plate negatives and letters from Arkansas Confederate soldiers who wrote home during the Civil War, Drew paints a meaningful picture of what it means to serve one’s country in the military.
“To keep us separated by lack of knowledge or lack of geography is only doing us all a disservice, so I hope my work will be able to bridge those gaps.”
The exhibit is available both online and in person through February. Since the pandemic hit, Shutt says the cultural center has taken more exhibits online in order to stay connected to the community. The annual Juneteenth celebration which, last year, attracted more than 5,000 participants, garnered more than 70,000 hits to the online exhibit.
“The staff planned it in about three weeks — to give you a sense of what that means, we usually take a year to shift all of that online,” explains Shutt. “We don’t have a ton of technical expertise, so we’re learning as we go, but one of our core values is to be learning-centered. We’ve made a commitment to meet our community where they are and help meet their needs, whether it’s doing online openings or supporting teachers with virtual content so they can still do Black history content for their students.”
During a recent phone interview, Drew answered questions about his life and work.
What’s your history with Arkansas, and what draws you to it as subject matter?
First and foremost, my history [with Arkansas] goes back to 2000 when I was first stationed here as active duty in the Air Force. I was stationed at Little Rock Air Force Base, and that’s where I met my wife, who grew up here; she’s an immigrant from Eastern Europe but grew up here when her family moved over. So my marriage license was from here, and two of my children were born here, so I have roots, if you will, in Arkansas. But the state itself is just so fantastic. It was frontier land before it was a state, so I like that kind of “Wild West” aspect of its history. It was a Confederate state, but there were large groups here who didn’t want to be in the Confederacy. It’s deep South, but not completely South. There are just so many facets to Arkansas that are absolutely wonderful to me. I just really like it — the land itself, the rolling hills, the greenery. It’s so green! I think the people of Arkansas are really not given enough credit as far as the diversity and the intellectualism. Even me, when I first got my orders in 2000, I said, ‘ArKANSAS? I was coming from Brooklyn, New York City. I knew it was one of those middle states, but I didn’t know where it was on a map. But the state itself, and the diversity and history, is just more than I thought it was going to be. There’s so much depth to all of it. How could you not love this place?
Tell us about the origins of the idea for your exhibit at the Mosaic Templars Cultural Center?
All of my series, whatever I’ve done, are based almost exclusively on autobiographical introspection — trying to understand myself through other people’s narratives — as well as a smattering of patriotism. And when I say patriotism, I want to be clear that my patriotism comes from the desire of seeing what America could be versus what it was, and to an extent, what it is right now. We could do so much better as a country, and I recognized this early in my 30s — that I have to be the change that I want this country to be. You can’t just sit on your laurels and say “America is where it should be”; we have to work at it, we have to work at a democracy, we have to work at our country as a whole, as a culture. Obviously, the disparities of race are quite evident to people who actually are victims to it, versus people who just witness it.
I thought, OK, well, I want to talk about people who are under represented, misunderstood and lost within the histories and narratives of other people’s ideas and voices — naturally, that would bring me to people of color and, specifically, to me. I know what it’s like not to be seen. I grew up in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York, and that was primarily an Italian-American neighborhood. There weren’t a lot of Black people. I think it was like me, and then I might, every two weeks or so, see one other Black person going through the neighborhood, so it was not diverse in that aspect. That formed my perspective of America as a whole and what I wanted to be as an artist.
The beginnings of this series were based on the series I did before. If you went to my website, you might have seen my self-portraits. So I knew I wanted to do a series of veterans; I have for a long time. When I got to Arkansas, I didn’t really know many people here besides my family members, and I really wanted to create some kind of art series, and I was so in love with Arkansas — it was so beautiful to me and I was totally in love with it. I thought, let me try to make a series that is about a veteran in Arkansas, and then I thought, me! I’m a veteran in Arkansas. That’s when I did the self-portraits, and that was the prelude to the “American Veterans of Arkansas.” Fast forward to a meeting I attended with the Arkansas Arts Council, where I met [Mosaic Templars Cultural Center Director] Christina Shutt, and she said, “I would love to commission you to do a series on Black veterans,” so actually, the series I had in my head, that was already there, she said, “Hey, I want to pay you to make it and put it in our museum,” and I was like, “Yeah!”
Was it difficult to find people to both sit for the portraits as well as open up to you about their experiences?
I was using multiple devices — as an artist, you use what you’ve got. I was using the fact that like them, I, of course, am a Black person, a person of color; I’m a veteran; I’m a father of five. So you have all of these tools. I wanted them to come to my house, primarily — there were a couple who didn’t — and I wanted that because I wanted them to see who I was to help break down those walls. I wanted them to see that I saw them as a person, and I wanted them to see me as a person, and we’re going to talk and then, at the end, I’ll take a photo. That’s my approach for all of the series I do — I don’t want the person to think that I’m just there to take a photo. The end result is a photo, but the core of it is for me to find out who you are as a person. These relationships don’t last for years — some of them do — but most of them, for that couple of hours, I at least want them to know that they’re heard by somebody.
Were you surprised or taken aback by any of the stories you had heard, or were they essentially reflections of your own experiences in the military?
I was surprised by my own reaction and my own self-growth. Growing up, I just hated being Black. I thought it was less to be Black. And I’m open and honest about this to help other people in understanding what some other people’s experiences were. I hated being Black, so it’s been a growth from those days when I was younger. When I joined the military, I started getting more self pride, and meeting my wife, who I realized loved me for me — it didn’t matter what I looked like — that was huge. And now as an artist, people recognizing me for my talents and not because they feel sorry for me. So when I meet the sitters for my photos, I started meeting these people who were so accomplished. Here were these elders — most were elders — and I met Ph.D.s, doctors, lawyers, colonels. A few colonels, which is not a small task to accomplish, and especially in the Arkansas Guard, because things are still there, those feelings are still there. So to meet these people and to hear their stories — I’ll tell you, for people who have been constantly marginalized and looked down upon, they’re some of the happiest people I’ve ever met. Throughout America, something that is never really addressed is the spirit of African-Americans. It is really uplifting when you sit down and talk to people, and that is part of my work that I really want people to get — if you actually just stop listening to whatever media outlets talk about and whatever preconceived notions people have … throughout my time in the military, I met people who had never met Black people, but who had preconceived notions about them. I would often get this, “I like you, man, you’re not like the others,” and I would say, “What the heck does that mean? Do you know any Black people? No? Then why would you say that?” It’s ridiculous, and I think a lot of racism and negativity is based on lack of knowledge. So the series is also me trying to show people, “Here we are. We are part of you, we are American citizens.” That’s where the title comes from — “American Veterans of Arkansas.” I don’t want people to go in there and think about “Black Veterans of Arkansas.” I want them to think of us and see us as Americans, because that’s what we are, and most of our families — a majority of us — have roots in America for hundreds of years. We’re born of this nation, we built this nation, and we shouldn’t be considered or treated like second-class citizens, which happens far too often.
Talk about your choice to use tintype photography and other historical forms of photography in your work?
I specifically use tintypes and cyanotype and glass-plate negatives as a way of creating a dialogue with the past. I use photo process, regardless of whether they’re digital or tintype, as contextualization for the subject; when I’m contextualizing history, I’ll use tintypes. I don’t use tintype for just anything — the historical dialogue through the medium is paramount.
Did you teach yourself how to use this type of photography?
I was actually watching a video, 10 years ago now, about a National Geographic photographer named Robb Kendrick, who was doing tintypes in Reno. From there, I kind of put that idea on the back burner. When I got into the San Francisco Art Institute, I told one of my photo professors, “I would love to do tintypes,” and she said, “Well, we have a student named Tim who does that,” so I asked Tim if he wouldn’t mind teaching me if I paid him, and he taught me in a weekend, one-on-one, and I went from there. It takes years to get even kind of good with tintypes — there are so many little variables that can go wrong that you really need to work with or around.
Because of covid-19, your exhibit at the Mosaic Templars Cultural Center will be online, which means it has the potential of being seen around the world. Are you surprised at the way covid-19 is changing the world of art?
I’m always surprised by how much we’re adapting — no thanks to politicians, by the way. We, as a country and as a culture, are really just taking it and running with it: “OK, we can’t go out, so what else can we do?” Even the companies are stepping up in that void of leadership, saying, “We’ll help this way and that.” Everybody is really coming together on their own. I don’t think it’s great that there is a pandemic, and my wife is a doctor, so she has to deal with this daily, but at least I’m able to make my mark on more people. That’s what my work is also about — inclusion into the narrative of American culture and history. I don’t want people to think I’m trying to prop Black people and veterans up; I am really just trying to include us in the story, because we’re not there. I don’t want people to be turned off by the fact that it’s only Black people, because, in my meandering through life, I’ve realized that people are really turned off by “in your face” [messaging], but [it’s different] if they’re given the suggestion, “Hey, I would like to be with you in your narrative.” There’s nothing wrong with being proud of being white or Asian or whatever, but do you want to hear my story, too? That’s where I’m coming from. I think that, when I do that, you hear my story and it enhances your life — the positive aspects of my life and even the negative aspects, because then you see that other people hurt; it’s not just you, it’s us, and when we’re included, together, we’re stronger as a nation and as a people. To keep us separated by lack of knowledge or lack of geography is only doing us all a disservice, so I hope my work will be able to bridge those gaps and be seen, and maybe someone sitting at home who may have thought of Black people as just entertainers and basketball players says, ‘This guy is making photos,’ and he empathizes with me and says, “Yeah, this happened to me, too” or “Look at how this person is sitting, it’s so dignified and it reminds me of my grandfather’s old photos.” That’s how you open that mind, and the dialogue begins to grow, and people open their hearts. As a Buddhist, it’s paramount that I help people become enlightened to the aspects of reality around them.
GO & DO
‘We Hold These Truths:
American Veterans of Arkansas”
When: 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday and online at mosaictemplarscenter.com Where: Mosaic Templars Cultural Center, 501 W. Ninth St., Little Rock and online at mosaic templarscenter.com Cost: Free Information: mosaictemplarscenter.com
Lara Jo Hightower can be reached by email at lhightower@nwadg. com .