Smiling off to war

Gut-wrenching war narratives they’re not. However, Pavel Amromin’s cherubic, puppy-faced porcelain figures say as much about the subject as Goya’s famously visceral “Executions on the Third of May” or K/Sthe Kollwitz’s tragic “Widows and Orphans.”

Sure, the sculptor has (quite literally) glossed over the grimness, but with good reason—and with exquisite results.

In his artist’s statement, Amromin says he chose the puppy as his motif because, like the 18-year-olds who make up most of the world’s armies, a puppy is impressionable, easy to train and intensely loyal. “Like a good soldier,” he writes, “a good dog is readily trainable, disciplined, and follows orders without hesitation. Like a child, a dog constantly seeks reassurance and approval, eagerly awaiting a chance to prove himself.”

The viewer is cunningly drawn to the work because of the seeming familiarity of the medium. These darling little figures are posed on beautifully carved and decorated bases, some sporting conventional gold trim reminiscent of delicate figurines on parlor what-not shelves.

The work is heartbreaking in its intensity and realism. “Mother’s Darling” shows a scowling, flesh-colored puppy, naked except for his unlaced combat boots. He stands with his foot on the neck of another pup who is crouched on the ground, his hands bound behind his back, his legs coming out of their combat boots as he helplessly contemplates the rifle pointed at his head. A single figure in white is titled “For Father.” Wearing unlaced black combat boots, he shows a look of grim determination as he works out with barbells. Another single figure in white stands expectantly, his boots properly laced, on a white pedestal decorated with four purple hearts. Both arms have been amputated at the elbow.

“This is My Rifle” depicts a puppy with a fierce grin, his sharp little teeth exposed, standing with his legs spread apart and hips thrust forward. The butt of a big gold-trimmed rifle rests between his legs and points to the sky. His boots are laced—he is ready for action.

Amromin pulls no punches about the immaturity of the average young soldier as he fearlessly explores the mindset that would produce an Abu Ghraib prison scandal. In “Puppy Love,” he shows one laughing puppy with the big rifle pointed at another who shamefacedly tries to cover his genitals with a scrap of polka-dotted fabric. Another “soldier” with a big smile stands on tiptoe pinning a flower to the captive. “The Swing” boasts a lyrical gold-trimmed base supporting a rocky patch of ground with a one-limbed tree. A puppy with a toothy smirk straddles a corpse hanging from the tree. He is pushed by a smiling companion.

Every gesture and facial expression is full of uncomfortable meaning. Amromin’s technical skill is clearly superb, but his insight into the minds of the adolescents sent out to be maimed or killed is what distinguishes the work from other figurative war statements.

That, and suspense. Amromin says it best with his “Caution, Live Ammo” allegorical figure. In this piece, a white puppy with a distraught expression leans slightly and squints into the barrel of a gold-trimmed pistol. We are left to wonder if he will pull the trigger.