The stimulating combination of iridescent acrylics, splattered ink and dusted sand emboldened their artists’ soft voice and shy disposition in the overcrowded room.

Presenting his series of artwork entitled “Dust Memories” to many at his gallery’s opening night, Aaron Hughes’ art portrays his 18 months of service in Iraq.

Now a junior in FAA, the 24-year-old takes no political stance on the war; instead he uses an abstract art form, keeping the works open to interpretation.

Road and desert maps of Iraq were dusted and caked in sand within the frames of work, some splattered with blood and others translucent beyond the images of small boys and photographs of soldiers.

“They’re distorted memories (of) my distorted account,” he said.

Still, he said the work is one person’s interpretation, and Hughes encourages people to look at many different perspectives on the war.

“I want to create a space for people to think and make up their own minds,” he said.

One piece of work was a booklet of abstract paintings in black and white, except for the last three, doused in deep colors to represent the pain and renewal of his intense experience, he said.

“It’s a powerful combination of extreme violence and beauty,” said University High teacher Billy Vaughn of his work in general.

Already selling his work, proceeds are going to many charities that benefit children and other less fortunate people.

“That voice is the voice that can change things,” said Stephen Kaufman, professor of cell and structural biology of Hughes’ work.

As far as Hughes is concerned, Iraq hasn’t drastically changed since his time there.

“It’s happening right now. There’s still trucks driving down the same damn roads I was driving down, going to the same damn camps, with the same damn kids standing on the road,” he said.

The Iraq experience

They trudged through the 120-degree desert in their trucks the entire day with nothing but sand in sight.

Unsure of their exact location along Military Supply Route Tampa, the 1244th Company of the National Guard had been transporting equipment back and forth throughout Iraq the entire summer of 2003 in these conditions.

Sergeant Aaron Hughes, now a junior in FAA, said he only knew at that time that he was driving equipment from checkpoint A to checkpoint B.

When the company found improvised explosive devices made with coke cans, twirled t-shirts, and once, a dead dog with wires poking out of its rear end, security halts were occasionally called.

Taking a short break in the middle of nowhere, little Iraqi children would appear amid the sand, asking the soldiers for food.

“I couldn’t even see a mud hut and kids would just (be) there,” Hughes said.

Once, a weak old woman came up to him in the desert. Checking his cargo, she approached Hughes in a black veil, speaking Arabic and motioning with her hands and open mouth for food.

He instinctively pulled a Meal Ready to Eat from the back of the truck and handed it to her.

“Sergeant Hughes what the hell are you doing?” Hughes recalled his commanding officer yelling a few feet from him.

The soldiers had repeatedly been told not to feed the many Iraqi women and children who always asked for food. Nevertheless, Hughes thought it was the right thing to do.

The woman bowed in gratitude and backed away.

“I’m feeding the hungry, Sir!” he responded nonchalantly, as if he was unaware of the policy.

Hughes was reprimanded for this, and the many other times before and after that he gave them food and water.

“I didn’t understand. we had so many extra (Meals Ready to Eat),” he said of the military’s reasoning. “There’s nothing but desert and dust. It’s not like there’s some dumpster where they can scavenge for something to eat.”

He was always willing to help, Vince Escheverria of Oak Forest, Ill. and a fellow unit member, said.

“Hughes would (have gone) without a whole meal for the day,” he said of his generosity.

The first time Hughes and his Company crossed into Iraq from Kuwait where they were initially shipped, a massive crowd of kids swarmed in the road, doing whatever they could to get the soldier’s attention for food.

Driving his truck, a small child with a blue-stripped shirt jumped in front of Hughes, shaking his body and waving his hands.

Hughes honked for him to get out of the truck’s way.

“There’d be little guys barely able to stand up all the way up to 14… and they’re playing chicken with the trucks.”

Some children jumped onto the vehicles and tried to grab food or equipment. He empathized with those children.

Longing to help those in need was the reason he signed up for the National Guard after receiving a scholarship to attend the University in 2000.

After studying Industrial Design for two-and-a-half years, he was shipped out on a moment’s notice, leaving his friends, family and entire way of life behind him.

“Everything’s gonna be different – a lot of changes,” he said of his mentality at the time.

After completing training with his Company in Fort McCoy, Wisc., he took the 18-hour flight to Kuwait in April 2003.

His unit spent months in overcrowded tents in a foreign country of sweltering temperatures with nothing to do.

“It was a lot of ‘hurry up and wait,'” Hughes said of the experience.

Waiting for their 30 year-old trucks that always broke down and were delayed in the Mediterranean, they spent two-and-a-half months in Kuwait simply trying to locate and organize their equipment.

Still without their bulletproof sheets for their vests, they crossed the border into Iraq. Watching the numerous trucks and children immersed in the streets, again Hughes was disappointed, as he began to view his mission in Iraq as misguided.

“This is why we’re here; we’re going to help these kids out,” Hughes said of seeing the crowds for the first time. “These are the people who have been repressed by Saddam Hussein for years.”

While he knew this wasn’t their objective, he felt it should have been.

Escheverria saw the overall mission as the entire rebuilding of Iraq from the ground up with new government and infrastructure that would eventually assist the children.

Hughes and Escheverria agreed that they accomplished what the military had wanted.

Still, they were frustrated after being extended three times, and wanted to come home. They decided to get their job done as quickly as possible.

“We’re not going to be freaking heroes. We’re just doing our job and we’re going home,” Hughes said.

Throughout much of their 18 months in Iraq, Hughes said nothing there had changed. Even when Saddam Hussein was captured, the unit didn’t care, as it had no effect on their mission, Hughes said.

“We were still going to be going up to Iraq. We were going to be coming down Iraq,” Hughes said. “And the kids are still going to be standing on the road.”