An Army soldier in Afghanistan — we'll call him Joe — has spent the last couple of years wondering if the Valkyries will spirit him off to the afterlife or choose someone else.
The Valkyries, you may know, are figures in Norse mythology, winged creatures that decide who lives through a battle and who goes to the warrior's paradise of Valhalla.
A soldier in a war zone might spend a lot of time chewing over this myth and its idea that casualties of war are chosen, not random, and destined for a hero's welcome beyond. Joe, stationed at Forward Operating Base Salerno, certainly thought about it.
Talking with a civilian contractor at the base, Joe mentioned this vision he had of a Valkyrie standing among soldiers on a modern battlefield. He wanted an artist to turn that idea into a painting.
The contractor happened to know a Bethlehem artist named Leslie Gerhart, and after some emailing back and forth, she agreed for the first time in her career to take a commission and render someone else's idea with her paintbrush.
It took two months, but it's done. Artist and soldier were in touch constantly. He would tell her what he thought the image should be, and she would refine the idea. They became friends, to the extent that two people who have never laid eyes on one another can become friends.
"From what he's seen in battle, he's had a very difficult time," Gerhart told me when I stopped by to look at the painting. "He's pretty down."
For that reason, she asked me not to use his name. I didn't have any problem with that, because the painting, though rendered for one soldier, would probably be meaningful to most.
It's a simple piece: two soldiers in silhouette on either side of the Valkyrie, which would be taken for a soldier itself if not for its wings sprouting from its back. The men stand against an orange sky that could, perhaps, be sunrise, but feels like sunset.
Traditionally, the Valkyrie is depicted as a woman, but Gerhart painted this one as a man. "I needed it to be a larger presence," she explained.
It ought to be large, with the weight of life and death on its shoulders. Indeed, there is no bigger piece of music than Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries," from the second opera of the "Ring" cycle. In "Apocalypse Now," Robert Duvall's profane and half-mad Colonel Kilgore orders helicopter pilots to blare the piece from speakers as they attack the enemy. "We use Wagner," he bellows. "Scares the sh— out of [them]."
Gerhart's Valkyrie towers over the soldiers, but seems part of their company, too. She said Joe wanted her to paint the soldiers looking in the same direction, but she convinced him they ought to be looking in different directions, because they are all on different paths. He agreed.
He hasn't seen the painting yet — just an emailed photo of it. Gerhart will ship a print to him, then give him the framed original when he returns to the United States.
"I think it has so much meaning to him," she said, recounting his excitement over the finished image. "I can't believe how intense it got."
Gerhart, who runs an online arts business called Glossy Stones, said she'd like to sell prints of the image and use a portion of the proceeds to pay for soldiers' care packages. She said she already sends these overseas routinely but wants to do more.
"If you can do something like that, you should," she said.
Online: http://www.GlossyStones.com
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