Charles Apple

In case you missed the announcement last week in the SND Update blog, Richard Johnson is home from Afghanistan.

Many of you may recall Richard’s incredible pencil-drawn artwork from Iraq in 2003. He went there as an embedded visual journalist for The Detroit Free Press.

Flash forward five years. Richard is now the graphics editor for the National Post of Toronto. He went back to the Middle East this summer to embed with Canadian troops stationed there.

The National Post’s Richard Johnson.
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His work was posted in a blog for the National Post. And again, his practiced eye gave his readers a look at their men and women overseas — a look much different than any of them had ever seen.

Richard’s stuff is nothing short of breathtaking.

He agreed to answer a few questions for us:

Q. How long were you in Afghanistan?

A. I was in Afghanistan for two months.

Q. Was it difficult to talk the military into embedding an artist with the troops? As opposed to a reporter or a photog, that is.

A. Some. At the last stage the military came very close to turning me aside, because they didn’t want to give the space to an artist when they could give it instead to what they saw as a real journalist.

Below is a heavily edited note written by the Public Affairs Officer who did finally approve my admission application after sticking his neck out and pretending I was a photographer:

My name is Captain Doug MacNair, I coordinate the media embedding program from a desk here in Ottawa.

I do not think we spoke before you departed for Afghanistan, if we did and I do not remember, I’m sorry.

I am writing to thank you for the work you are doing in Afghanistan.

I have embedded more than 250 journalists in our program, and no embed has given me more personal satisfaction than yours.

I have enjoyed reading your blog, you write as well as you draw.

Thanks for being handy with a pencil and a piece of paper.

Thanks for writing so well about the things that are hard to draw.

Thanks for leaving your family to do an important job. I know how that feels and it’s never easy.

Most of all Richard, thanks for risking your life while you do all those things.

Q. What percent of the work you did was on-the-spot sketching? What percent was photography reference for later?

A. All of my portrait work on this trip was live, done while I sat and chatted to the subject. I tended not to approach the soldiers for portraits until I had been on some kind of a mission with them. I have found that they are much more willing to talk openly with you if they see that you are willing to accept some of the risks they do.

All of the landscapes and stationary military equipment was drawn live, as were most of the rough sketches.

I use photographic reference only when things are happening too fast and when it is too dangerous, or simply inappropriate to have my sketchpad out. I am constantly trying to push the envelope on those scenarios too though. I only ever draw from my own photographs. I think the fact that I have experienced what I am drawing is an essential part of the final art.

I can also draw entirely from memory if I see something but am unable to draw live or to get my camera on it.

Q. What tools did you use? How did you keep your pencils sharpened?

A. I use only one type of pencil and keep a whole bunch in my pocket at all times. They are a Prismacolor pencil. I sharpen them with a Leatherman I keep on my belt. They work very well in all kinds of conditions and are fairly impervious to over-rub smudging and sweat blotting. This also means that I cannot erase anything.

I used a digital camera to photograph the sketches each evening, and emailed them back to the National Post using a small satellite phone.

Q. Over the course of this trip — or, for that matter, your earlier trip to Iraq — did you ever feel your life was in danger?

A. No. I have never felt my life was in any danger. There is a natural tendency to believe that death cannot happen to you, and I grasp this lifeline pretty tightly. Without this helpful delusion I would likely never get off the plane.

In Afghanistan on various patrols there was shooting around me, but not often enough that I could become an expert on whether it was nearby or not. I take my cues from the soldiers. When they duck down, I duck down. When they lie face down, I lie face down.

The Forward Operating Bases were regularly on the receiving end of rocket and mortar fire, but this was so random and so sporadic that you can’t do anything other than get on with your work, ignore it and hope for the best.

Every convoy or vehicle patrol that you complete shortens your odds of connecting with an IED. All of the Canadians killed in combat in Afghanistan were killed by these devices.

Q. What struck you as the biggest differences between this trip and your 2003 Iraq trip?

A. No Skittles.

Published in 2003. Illustrations by Richard; text by Jeff Seidel, also of the Free Press. Buy it for $13.57 from Amazon here. Or, order it directly from the Freep for $19.95 here.
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Q. Do you plan to publish another book collecting your drawings?

A. Quite a few people have mentioned this possibility. It is difficult to believe that the interest is there though, outside of the families of soldiers, artist types and my mum.

I am also loath to consider myself an expert. I think maybe if I made a number of these trips then I might start to feel I had enough work for a book.

I am working however actively with a couple of other combat artists — one from Britain and one from the U.S. — on the possibility of getting a joint exhibition.

Q. I bought a copy of the Iraq book. I’m betting several of the readers of this blog also have copies. What’s the best way to get those books autographed? Will you be in Boston?

A. No plans to be in Boston as of this question.

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Richard picked out a couple of favorite drawings from his trip. Here they are, along with the text he presented with each, when they were originally posted to his blog.

THURSDAY, JUNE 28
Near Millayan

The dismounted soldiers walk only in the tracks of the tank. Constantly sweeping their weapons left and right, up and down, the buildings as we pass. They call out dangers and possible firing lines to one another as they walk. The sergeant keeps them all spaced and reminds them of their jobs. The jigsaw-building gigglers are not here now. We walk on.

The dirt walls either side are mere inches from the width of the tank. The soft talcum of sand rises into the air around us. I realize I forgot my face scarf. I shoot everything non-stop. It is too bright out to see the camera’s screen so I snap blind. I watch my feet. I try not to get in the way. I try and miss nothing.The heat starts to take a toll. Every time the tank stops soldiers alternate turns to drink. Civilian families are waved inside by the interpreters and the ANP. I snag a water from the ever-prepared Corporal Tu. My camera makes one last grinding sand-filled attempt to focus and dies. I grab the spare.

We move on metre after choking metre, after km after km before eventually leaving the buildings for open fields. Gunfire erupts from the lead tank’s coaxial machine gun. It hurtles forward, crushing a stone wall and rumbling into the field. The soldiers duck by the wall. Then they are joined by others, then hustled by their sergeants to work to the right along the road flanking something I cannot see. Gunfire erupts again and I drop to one knee. I am the only one though. Everyone else can tell friendly from enemy gunfire. The tanks continue moving and firing.

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SUNDAY, JULY 22
Role 3 hospital

During the cleanup, three hours after we began, all the sheets and masking were peeled away and a man appeared from under them again. A rough blanket was thrown over him.

With the stretcher standing by, he was gradually roused by one of the Dutch nurses. He started to shiver and I could see him working to pull the blanket up with fingers that wouldn’t do what they were told. The nurse helped him get it to his chin. I stayed through the whole process until the patient was on the ward and in bed.

I could only imagine the pain he would be in tomorrow.

And I wondered whether anyone had told him yet about his five friends.

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Stunning stuff. Simply stunning.

Find Richard’s Kandahar Journal blog here.

Richard also recorded an interview with the Canadian Broadcast Company. Find the MP3 of that interview here.

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