art exhibits

From 1963 to 1965, after graduating from the University of Michigan, I worked in the Army medical core as a urologist on Sandia base. The base, located on the edge of Albuquerque, New Mexico, produced and stored nuclear weapons. I also worked at Kirtland, which is the world’s largest storage for nuclear weapons.

After the military, I continued my career as a urologist in a private practice for thirty-three years, and I taught clinical urology at Michigan State University Medical School. Throughout my years in the army and my private medical practice, I served patients who needed solutions to various physical problems. But the greatest way that I could help anyone in life would be to encourage them to have faith in the Lord, who would be their greatest blessing.

Spotted Maple

At seventy-five, I started a new hobby of making hand-carved bowls. I learned to work with maple, one of the hardest wood species. Some of the tools used to create the wooden bowl are a lathe, a gouge, and a scraper. The lathe helps to form the outside of the bowl, while the gouge and scraper help make a recess on the inside of the bowl.

Common wood defects, such as a fungus infestation, can cause spots, bark inclusion, or streaking on the wood, producing interesting effects. I enjoy the creative process of starting with a small log and, eight hours later, ending with a unique, hand-carved object. As a former surgeon, woodworking seems to be a natural creative outlet. In art as well as in life, the rustic simplicity of the work portrays the beauty within imperfections.

Our new type of ArtPrize venue gives veterans a voice as they share their stories of struggle and healing through art.

Spotted Maple is showcasing at Veterans Memorial Park

A special thanks to Kent County Veterans Services, Zero Day, Finish the Mission, West Michigan Veterans Coalition, Breton Woods of Holland Home, PlexiCase Inc, and Healing in Arts for making this collaboration of veteran stories possible.

I want to leave the world a better place, but I’m not a writer. I can’t help a person feel good through a poem or a book. I do carve opal gemstones, though. If I am able to present an elegant art piece, the work might inspire others to feel good on the inside—and maybe even change their outlook on the world. Before starting, I study the shape of the opal. The stone often speaks to me and shows me what to do.

My inspiration comes from nature, such as flowers, birds, sea shells, and butterflies. After carving the gems, sometimes spending twenty years on each piece, the shape uncovers an inner mystery. For the last step, the opal needs light to illuminate its complex matrix of color, which changes from white to blue to green to pink, depending on the angle of the light.

Along with sculpting, for 27 years, I have worked with profoundly impaired children. These special children shine like the colors of the opal’s rainbow, showing me the path to dignity, patience, and the value of life. I also coach swimming for children, teens, a high school varsity team, and the adult swim program at Grand Rapids Community College, which usually involves life coaching, too. In a small way, art and coaching allow me to make a difference—leaving the world a better place.

Tiny Sculptures

As a G.I. in Vietnam, I witnessed terrible suffering. As a result, I struggle with PTSD and anxiety, making it difficult to form close relationships. Loud noises and war movies often trigger my PTSD. But I have found comfort in creating tiny opal sculptures. For this work, I use a magnifying glass, a rotary cutter, sand paper, and a polishing tool. Opals are difficult to carve. I have to be careful to cut away only what’s needed, because I can’t add back what I have already taken off.

The additional two-dimensional photos of the sculptures, by photographer Edward Bussa, help magnify the intricate beauty of the gems. Although each piece takes decades to complete, the creative process helps diminish my anxiety. Plus, art provides a positive way for me to leave a legacy of kindness and peace—reversing the effects of war.

Our new type of ArtPrize venue gives veterans a voice as they share their stories of struggle and healing through art.

Tiny Sculptures is showcasing at Veterans Memorial Park

A special thanks to Kent County Veterans Services, Zero Day, Finish the Mission, West Michigan Veterans Coalition, PlexiCase Inc, and Healing in Arts for making this collaboration of veteran stories possible.

My name is George Doornbos. I’m 87 years old, and I live with my wife, Janye, in a Breton Woods Retirement Community. I served in the Army from 1953 to 1955, in Nuremberg. As a radio operator, I learned Morse Code. But I also learned to obey orders. With all the intense physical training, I stayed in excellent shape, while serving in the best army in the world. Before moving into Breton Woods, I knew nothing about woodworking. But at 80 years old, after taking a course in the facility’s workshop, I learned how to create a new art process, called intarsia.

The work involves coloring and combining pieces of wood to form an art piece that resembles an animal, a person, or a nature scene. The new hobby added a whole new dimension to my life. I no longer needed to wonder about what to do with my time. The work also helped me to take my mind off unpleasant things, such as the aging process or other challenging situations. Because of my time in the Army, I think it is important for young people to learn to obey and respect authority. I would advise a younger veteran who needs something to give their life more meaning to try a new hobby. The new interest may help someone take his or her mind off difficult situations or memories that might fill the mind.

Honoring a Fallen Comrade

I felt inspired to create a piece of art after participating in the Honor Flight to Washington, D.C. While touring Arlington Cemetery and seeing all the monuments of the various military conflicts, I wanted to do something to honor those who didn’t survive World War II. After serving in the U.S. Army for two years in Germany, I felt fortunate to return home. To make the 225-piece wooden puzzle, I used aspen wood. I started by using a scroll saw to cut each piece. Next, I glued all the pieces together to form a soldier. The final step involved staining the pieces. Art gives me a purpose, so I never have to worry about what to do with my time, and it helps me to remember the fallen.

Our new type of ArtPrize venue gives veterans a voice as they share their stories of struggle and healing through art.

Honoring a Fallen Comrade is showcasing at Veterans Memorial Park

A special thanks to Kent County Veterans Services, Zero Day, Finish the Mission, West Michigan Veterans Coalition, Breton Woods of Holland Home, PlexiCase Inc, and Healing in Arts for making this collaboration of veteran stories possible.

After sixteen years of military service, veteran and artist Ron Kelsey discovered that combat doesn’t end on the battlefield. His art piece, War and Peace, depicts his personal journey towards recovery, as he continues to fight war’s scars through PTSD and other disabilities. Over ten years ago, Kelsey founded Reflections of Generosity (RoG), a traveling art exhibit that raises awareness for PTSD, military trauma, and veteran suicide.

While he traveled to multiple bases, including the Pentagon and West Point, sharing his personal story of being medically retired, other veterans and their family members spontaneously gifted their art to RoG. The collection grew to seventy works, with artists from seven different countries. RoG highlights the soldier’s concerns, both on and off the battlefield, and honors those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

As RoG expanded, Kelsey started free art workshops for service members and veterans with an emphasis on positive release. He also wrote his first book, Reflections of Generosity, outlining his journey from soldier to artist. Kelsey’s work helps veterans and service members to experience restoration and healing—promoting generosity through art.

War and Peace

War and Peace represents the IR flag that every American soldier wears throughout combat. As soldiers return home from war, the dark flag embodies the disappearance of the America they once knew. The light flag represents the personal cost of war upon every soldier’s life, like the PTSD some endure. After a one-year deployment to Iraq, I found healing by facing my war scars and unifying the dark, broken pieces, like the joining of the black and white flags.

The challenges of war are not only experienced by soldiers; war’s aftermath and sorrow affect all of us. At this juncture in our nation’s history, War and Peace serves as a facilitator of healing and restoration. When we reclaim peace among life’s ruins—by forgiving others—we generously share hope and strengthen our culture.

Our new type of ArtPrize venue gives veterans a voice as they share their stories of struggle and healing through art.

War and Peace is showcasing at Veterans Memorial Park

A special thanks to Kent County Veterans Services, Zero Day, Finish the Mission, West Michigan Veterans Coalition, and Healing in Arts for making this collaboration of veteran stories possible.

I feel honored to have served 15 years, 1 month, and 18 days in the United States military as an airborne Ranger, part of the Special Forces. While fighting in Iraq, and other undisclosed places, I received three purple hearts. But each time, I got patched up and returned to fight the next battle.

In 2013, after serving 27 months in the most hellish place on earth, the government offered me a desk job. But I opted to go home, because Rangers don’t sit on the sidelines. After re-entering the civilian world, I thought my life would be normal. I still see images, though, as if the things I witnessed only happened fifteen seconds ago. Something as simple as an unattended bag on the sidewalk will set me on edge.

Everyone expected me to come back as the same person who left fifteen years ago. But war changes a person. Although I’m a former Ranger, I don’t have a job or a house. My new reality: No one is going to hire a highly specialized veteran. Though I executed my military job very well, working with billion-dollar military equipment, I struggle not to default into automatic-combat-mode. It’s a daily battle not to “rope off” (any military guy knows what that means).

Recently, as I watched a middle-school kid kick a Vietnam War Memorial and say, “Who cares about a bunch of dead people?” I had all I could do to keep my cool. To me, it seems like Americans have zero respect for their country. People think freedom is just a word. But freedom is very expensive; it costs lives. Someone’s son or daughter comes back in a body bag. After serving 15 years, 1 month, and 18 days, I’m just not geared for the civilian world.

Re-Entry

Eight years after leaving the Special Forces, I struggle with re-entry, navigating the gap between military life and the civilian world. Civilians don’t understand the kinds of shit soldiers experience. For ArtPrize, I sacrificed my favorite t-shirt to help society comprehend the vets’ ongoing battles. The lower half of the shirt represents the structure and discipline of military life. The top half portrays chaos, my civilian life.

This project gave me a chance to go deep, to process and unpack some stuff. It’s not easy to talk about a failed marriage and all the missed birthdays and Christmases—part of the personal cost of freedom. But I want my art to shine a light on veteran needs. For years, I risked my life to serve our country and help others—but I still struggle with re-entry.

Our new type of ArtPrize venue gives veterans a voice as they share their stories of struggle and healing through art.

Re-Entry is showcasing at Veterans Memorial Park

A special thanks to Kent County Veterans Services, Zero Day, Finish the Mission, West Michigan Veterans Coalition, Heartside Ministry, and Healing in Arts for making this collaboration of veteran stories possible.