The Value of Military Images as Keepsakes

See it Everyday!

My wife is my compass.

What is it about uniformed bodies frozen into portraits that demand being attended constantly? I haven’t discovered it. Since I had my wife’s portrait redone and hung in the living room, many friends admit it is the first picture they look at when they walk into our home.

There is something visually compelling about a uniform; especially a military uniform. Embedded in a portrait, it is even more compelling because imagining the possibility of taking it off is forbidden.

All pictures carry some authority, given it by its memorial permanence, but the framed picture, the portrait, is the daddy of them all. Portraits seem to possess the quality of staring back with intensity incomparable to ordinary photos. The occupant of a portrait is always present, and if they’re wearing uniforms, always powerful.

Portraits of uniformed bodies compel touch. They draw you into themselves, like a power source, like a great reservoir of braveness, and you’re possessed to tap from it. Many times, this is an unconscious thing. But I find, with my wife’s portrait, it is deliberate.

The motivation may well quite be that she is family, but that’s half the story. Though I touch it because I miss her, I also touch it for the energy it bounces off me. There are plenty of pictures of us kayaking somewhere, on barbecue nights, fending off a lion at the local zoo… but none of them report the full extent of her courage like the portrait of her in the naval uniform.

Maybe it is because the uniform, true to its dictionary meaning, is usually crisp, made of alert fabric, and the authority it represents straightens the occupant’s posture, freezing it forever.

Many of our (other) pictures together were taken by friends and family. This may be another one of the portrait’s power: you can touch it without the distraction of recalling which of your friends took it. It is a strange escape, touching it, and owing allegiances to no one but the face(s) in the portrait, to no extra memory but the one we created sitting for the photographer that day.

This is the memory I savor daily, the happiness that seep into my hands when I touch it every day. This is a quality the portrait shares with a great character: they will always remain with you, and when you touch them they will touch you too. And since I can’t touch Facebook, Twitter, or Tumblr, I’m glad I had it done professionally.

As a veteran, I understand the importance of a military ceremony and the different custom and courtesies associated.  If you're in need of a photographer for a promotion or retirement ceremony, don't hesitate to contact me via telephone at (571) 250-5073 or email me at [email protected].  I look forward to speaking and hopefully working with you.