Portrait of a Warrior by James Brown

Baytown, Texas is a city of history, industrialization, and growth. Some would say that it is a dead or dying city, and although it isn't necessarily the best and most beautiful, it has rich tradition. It started as 3 separate townships before coming together to form our current city, yet through that time as well as it’s seeming steady back and forth of growth and decay there has always been a common thread through it all; community. Baytown has a history of freedom fighters and honoring them and those that served with them. Their sacrifice has been forever captured and memorialized for all to see, from The San Jacinto Monument (which can be seen from Baytown) honoring the locals and others that fought for Texas independence, to the Baytown Veterans Memorial Plaza at Bicentennial Park honoring the Baytonians that fought and died in the World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, and even the seven Astronauts killed in the tragic Challenger explosion of 1986, and the annual Memorial day celebration at Bicentennial park. The desire and tradition of honoring our fallen heroes is something deep rooted not just in Baytown but also in the hearts of Americans all over the world. The death of a soldier is tragic and it brings a community together. This is evident in another memorial, tucked away in a little store but definitely not hidden. As you drive down the historic (now straight) Texas Avenue, you can’t miss the bold red, white and blue painted sign above the entrance and the paintings that line the storefront of the Portrait of a Warrior Memorial Art Gallery. The colors jump from the neutral backdrop of the beige building and explode from the windows against the white walls. They can be seen from a distance and are an assault on the senses. As you walk along the sidewalk in front of the building you are taken by the depictions of soldiers enjoying a break with a Mercedes Benz after a victory over Nazi Germany, celebration with loved ones in America’s streets, the occupation of the Middle East, and the sad reality of a soldier being carried home by his brothers in a casket draped in the red, white and blue flag that he did more than bleed for but died for. Along with this are the faces of twenty-four of these men. Approaching the entrance, you walk into showcase corridor filled with paintings, uniforms and artifacts of war on either side with the glass boasting the name “Portrait of a Warrior.” You are soon met with an eight foot tall, half inch thick glass door. The heavy door swings unnaturally easy but also swings very quickly because of the weight. I was slightly thrown off balance as I pulled the thick glass giant open. The gallery is in an old galley style store, narrow and deep. Down the center there is a six foot, black partition and on either side there are the painting we see outside as well as actual wallet size pictures of the fallen men and women. On the towering, white twelve foot walls on either side, there are portraits from floor to ceiling and from front to back. The portraits along the floor are small, probably 17 inches by 21 inches, while the two rows of portraits above them are very large, about 3 feet by 4 feet, but they are all very bold in color and each tells a story. The background of every portrait proudly boasts a very bright and bold American flag waiving in the wind and in the top right corner of almost every one is the majestic bald eagle. Each portrait is painted with the focus of the picture being the fallen soldier in uniform and they are surrounded by a story of their life; depictions of them and their lives back home, doing what they love, what their passion was, and things and people that were most important to them. Each portrait also has a name plate below it displaying the warriors name. Past all the portraits, in the back of the store, there is a seating area with a television for showing films, an easel, and a computer where the gallery is operated from. In the very back is what appears to be a storage area through a wide doorway.

This memorial didn't start by any goal or mission that some group or individual desired or set out to accomplish initially, but as a favor that grew out of control and took root, one that the community fell in love with and took over the painters heart. As I walked along looking at the black partition, I see a little old man poke his head out from around the back of it. The man looked old with his wrinkly, sun spotted skin, his long white goatee, slightly hunched posture, wearing all denim covered in veteran’s patches, an American flag bandanna around his neck, and a veteran’s hat. As I walked back towards him he asked me if I served in the military and of course I said no. This man was an Air-force veteran by the name of Ken Pridgeon (78). Mr. Pridgeon isn't even a native Baytonian, but a transplant from Florida, and is the artist and owner of “Portrait of a Warrior.” I went to the Memorial Art Gallery to spend some time with Mr. Pridgeon and gain some insight on this memorial. “Wesley Riggs started all of this” said Mr. Pridgeon, “Wesley died in Iraq in 2005. A woman asked me to paint a portrait of him for an event for the Wounded Warriors Project.” He told me that it would've been the last one he did but Jessie Ainsworth was being buried in Dayton that day and someone approached him saying “Ken, you’re gonna have to paint a portrait of Jessie.” Mr. Pridgeon said “I argued with them a bit, but at that time I didn't realize I was going to be on some kind of mission.” He started to paint this portrait and it was like a domino effect. Word started to spread of his paintings of fallen heroes and very soon family after family from all over started asking him to paint their sons and daughters who had fallen in war. There were parents from as far as London that came to him and even local parents who had no idea that he had already heard of their child’s death and started on portraits of them. He even painted a portrait of Nick Marshall, son of local blogger Baytown Bert. Families send pictures of the fallen soldier in uniform and pictures of the solider doing what they love and of them with the people they love for a reference to paint from. I asked him if he charged for the paintings to which he answered with a resounding “NO.” He then told me about the mother of Army Sgt. Shaun Tousha who had heard about the portraits. She called and said “I understand you paint pictures of soldiers and their stories.” Mr. Pridgeon said “yes ma’am” and when she asked how much it cost to have a portrait done, he told her “you already paid the price, he already paid the price, they’re all free, thank ya ma’am.” Mr. Pridgeon pays for everything himself and through donations, and each family gets a print of the portrait. Along with the community, he has been recognized by the Texas House of Representatives commending him for his efforts. When I asked him why he continues to get up every morning and paint these portraits when it was just supposed to be a one time favor Mr. Pridgeon stated “I love what I do, I couldn't quit if I wanted, they all deserve this, and it’s hard to believe sometimes that this is what I get to do all day."

Generally I don’t have a very emotional reaction to things like this. I've always agreed that the fallen should be respected and honored for their service, but with my observation of the direction America is going, I've had a hard time believing in the military, particularly with what they are asked to do and who asked them to do it. I've also been a very disturbed for a long time by the way we “remember” people in America. Whether or not you are a soldier, it seems that all deaths are treated the same way, with the same honor and what seems like the same, insincere, over the top idolization and worship that continues for years upon years out of some sort of social or behavior obligation. I've always been able to understand the family of a fallen warrior honoring them year after year and people showing respect, but what has bothered me is complete strangers showing up and “worshiping” for lack of a better word, paying an inordinate amount of attention. My reaction when I walked into the Portrait of a Warrior Memorial Art Gallery wasn't any different that it would be for other memorials. It was an unemotional reaction but respectful. I didn't feel uncomfortable with what was going on there though. I was simply expecting to walk in, see portraits and talk to the owner then leave, but when I spoke with Mr. Pridgeon and heard the individual stories and even more so the reactions of parents, my heart broke and I couldn't hold back tears. The paintings of the soldiers are uncanny. As I walked through, I came across people I had seen before, Shaun Tousha, Jessie Ainsworth and Pat Tillman, but one of them in particular that I knew a little better was a young man by the name of Jeremy Burris. I know his siblings and have worked with some of his family before in music. His face was unmistakable and i can remember the day the his funeral procession came through town, right past the school I was working for. After getting the tour, Mr. Pridgeon thanked me for coming by and invited me to come back anytime. He firmly shook my hand, walked off, and I slipped back out the front door, stopping to take another long look at the portraits and the gallery before taking my forty minute long drive back to Liberty.

 I feel that Mr. Pridgeons approach is perfectly tasteful and exactly what it should be when it comes to honoring our fallen warriors. It’s a memorial that everyone can see and one that captures each individual and personality, but it’s done between him, the soldier, and the family, which I think is the most beautiful thing. His dedication to memorializing and honoring not only the local heroes but also those from all over America that have fallen for us in our most recent wars is a vein that runs deep, not only in Ken Pridgeon, but through all Baytonians. I believe it is a true testament and image of the community of Baytown, Texas.

Ken Pridgeon (DePrang)

Works Cited

DePrang, Emily. Ken Pridgeon. Digital image. Texasobserver.org. Texasobserver.org, 11 Feb. 2013.                     Web. 12 Nov. 2013
Pridgeon, Ken. Personal Interview. 24 Oct. 2013

Portrait of a Warrior Storefront, Baytown, TX. Personal photograph by author. 2013.