Transition Interview Series Part 2: Sarah Rossetti "Invader Girl"

A conversation with artist Sarah Rossetti on painting the GWOT and why sharing your experience matters.

There’s a bit of irony in authoring sentences which describe Sarah and her art. If there’s any recurring themes to the way Vets describe “Invader Girl’s” work, it would be in the way she defies what’s possible with verbal communication. Regardless, I can’t say I’ve seen better evidence to support the idea that a canvas represents the GWOT experience better than that of spoken or written word.

In the fall of last year, I was looking for illustration to support a non-fiction piece I was writing and ended up connecting with Sarah. The story depicted the National Guard and their role in the 07' “troop surge”, their tremendous efforts and, in part, their tremendous loss. I was struck by the informality and limited information Sarah required to get started. “Send me anything. It could be a few words, a few photos, a single word. Send me whatever you want me to know,” she told me. 

For many who participated in the GWOT, the characters we see in Sarah’s paintings share our thoughts. The way she presents those thoughts is candid, potent, and not at all watered-down. Speaking from my own experience, there’s something about her art that forces the viewer to face what they’d otherwise rather not, while at the same time reminds us that there’s community in that experience. 

I was delighted when Sarah agreed to contribute to this series. As I learned during our conversation, Sarah’s process of commissioning art for GWOT Vets has provided her with deep insight and intimate understanding of the experience. Her work provides much of the art for this Substack and has done so with such accuracy, that on occasions I’ve been asked if she created the piece specifically for that particular writing. 

I hope you enjoy this conversation with Sarah Rossetti, “Invader Girl.”

So, I know a bit about what you’re up to now but how did all this come to be? Where did you grow up?

Oh man, where did I not grow up might be a better question. I was a military kid. We moved around every two or three years, but I spent probably 20 years or so living out in Guam, so I’d say that's where, if I grew up anywhere. 

Got it, and how much of that time were you creating art? Is that something you were into since you were young? 

It’s been something I’ve always done. I’ve got doodles from when I was three or four. As soon as I could hold something in my hand. I remember thinking “this is awesome.”

It became an obsession as I got older, so yeah, always something I did. Back then, trying to pursue a career in art, it was like, “that’s fucking dumb, don’t do that.” So, art was my own personal thing, I didn’t share it with anyone, I didn’t show a whole lot of people. 

I failed most art classes in school. One of those kids. (Sarah laughing). So, I never thought I would have a career as an artist, but, turns out I’m okay at it. 

That’s cool. More than okay at it. What was it like being a kid growing up in Guam? 

Yeah so, my parents were divorced; typical military family. They split when I was young. My Mom liked the weather in Guam so she moved us out there and ended up getting into the bar business. 

At that time, I was a teenager, I thought I could help the family, and grow the business. I thought it was a cool thing to do, so I ended up working at that bar for maybe 10 years. 

It gave me really cool exposure to a lot of really cool people, military people, from different backgrounds. People brand new in the military, to retired, contractors, everyone. I mean, you name it, we served them in that bar. 

That’s really interesting. So, I assume the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are going on at this time? What year(s) would this have been? 

Mid 2000’s probably. Let’s see, 05’ and 06’, I guess. In 04’ I wouldn’t have been old enough to serve drinks, so probably later 2000’s. This was before iPhones. Things were a little bit more open, I guess there was just more sharing.

I think it’s good, having a place to go to and dump out your bag of shit, re-arrange it, get some shit of your chest. Now we all have iPhones, and everyone just sits still, it’s different now. 

I presume this is how you started painting Vets? You were depicting these stories from the bar and creating subjects in your art? 

More or less. I think great artists try to explain being human, being alive, right? My husband says that I’m a storyteller and my medium is art because I suck with words. I think at that time I just tried to capture something that’s important. 

I think the secrets of life lay with people who’ve touched the edges of the universe, and with those experiences you can bring that back and tell people who haven’t been there and teach them something. Show them how to step out of themselves. I want my art to inspire people to go further by depicting a piece of history, right now that’s GWOT history. 

I thought it was fucking amazing, like, I’m an 18-year-old kid, struggling with some personal loss. I was watching these humans, coming back from wherever, and I wanted to know, who are these guys? I started inquiring about these ceremonies and processes they had for loss, and I was really interested in that. What can civilians learn about loss from these guys who are experiencing it all the time? 

I never thought about it like that. Using art to take something from a small community and bringing it to the masses.

Yeah, I think that’s right. When I really dove into art, I was kind of a fucked-up kid, sneaking out, getting drunk with my friends, trying to process stuff that I didn’t have words for. Turns out, it was survivor's guilt. I was bad with words, didn’t know how to ask questions or describe how I felt, so once I found myself in this bar scene, hearing these stories from overseas, it was like, “hold on, these people sound like might know something.” After ten years of being there, I still wasn’t good with words but I could paint it. 

So you’re dealing with your own survivor's guilt, and found some commonality and healing with some of these Vets at the bar, fast forward to now, you’re helping Vets heal with your art, do I have that right? 

I figured out that you can have a bridge between “us and them.” You know, there is so much of that going around, not just military vs. civilian, but it’s everywhere. We’re all human, end of conversation, you have your set of experiences and I have mine, but at the end of the day they’re just experiences, and we can learn from each other and share what we know. 

Yeah, trauma is trauma I guess, regardless. 

It is, and art is a way you can explain it. You don’t have to tell the story. Nine times out of ten, you don’t want to tell your story to a stranger, that’s really scary and difficult; come to find out only until your bartender is feeding you whiskey. With art you don’t have to, just look at the art. 

Do you remember your first military or war subject? 

I don’t remember what it was, but I remember the girl who bought it. I used to hang the pieces in the bar, and I would lie and say, “oh yeah the artist isn’t here”, even though I was the artist. 

So you’re working at the bar listening to these Vets and painting on the side? That’s such a great story. When did you decide to do this full time? 

About 5 years ago, I had, how do I say this politely? My life came sort of crashing down, and it was one of those, “this is where it ends, or we keep going” stories. I put about 4K together, packed a backpack and showed up in Virginia. I was living in my buddy’s armory for about 2 weeks; laid a crash pad on the floor. 

Eventually, I got my own place, started doing odd jobs here and there. It was wild, but it was the first time I felt happy, like I was doing something that meant something. I was still doing art on the side, and then for whatever reason a commission came in and then another one, and then a piece would sell until I realized, I think I need to do this. 

I ended up quitting my job and about a week later COVID happened, so I thought “I guess I’ll paint for the next year.” 

Amazing. One thing I wanted to ask you about is the recurring use of purple, the way it comes from the subject’s face or their chest. Is there a story behind that? 

Yeah, so that started out by accident. I got asked to do this piece and I couldn’t get the face part right; that’s why I don’t do much realism. I got super frustrated and I smashed paint across the canvas. I came back later and I was like wow, that’s something, that’s important and maybe needs to keep happening. 

It has multiple meanings, it’s kind of evolved. The purple is kind of the soul or the color of an experience. If what science says is true, that everything is energy, then our experiences are energy, and we can’t just get rid of the energy. It’s an intense thing, but how do I show you that? That’s the purple. 

Yeah. I get it. It’s odd to ask about because it’s obvious what it is, but at the same time hard to put into words. 

Yeah, people ask a lot, but they already know. 

It’s powerful. Talk me through the commission process, I can imagine that can be a pretty heavy experience. What do you like to know before you create something for someone?

I don’t always get it right. People have all sorts of different willingness to be open. I like it when people tell me a story, because for whatever reason something in the story will be highlighted in my mind, probably the inflection of their voice or something that they maybe keep reiterating. I’ll pick up on that and then it will sort of be a starting point for the painting. At the end of the day though, sometimes it’s three sentences of information ,and I do my best. 

It's amazing. I think that’s part of what I like most about your work, you somehow are able to tell a story with what seems to be incomplete information.

What are you inspired by now? What do you think the future has in store for you? Do you have a plan in all of this? 

There are a few. My big goal is to try and paint it all, the whole GWOT, if I can. Then obviously the world keeps happening, so I want to paint that as well. I’ll probably die at the easel. 

Other than that, we’ve been hosting some people at the house, trying to have people come share ideas, have drinks, just trying to start conversations. I’ve started teaching a little bit. I don’t know if I’m any good at it but if I can help teach 5-10 people, they might teach 5-10 more people. I’m just one person. If I can pass that on as a tool, I’d like to do that. 

We get these messages, “thank you, I feel like I can look at this without all the chaos”, or ,“thank you this is exactly how I feel, now I can show somebody." It’s a powerful tool, and I feel like if I can teach that to someone else then why the fuck not? Not everyone’s into fishing, and I can’t play the guitar.

One thing I’ve observed is that, not always, but for a lot of Vets, interest in art seems to increase once folks leave the military. For me maybe, so much of being in the military was captured in the physical, then you get out and life doesn’t call on that part of you anymore. No one needs you to jump over walls and shoot things. Maybe art, and art therapy is sort of part of replacing that. 

Maybe it doesn’t have to be the end of it, but I know what you mean, an expansion of the identity. 

Yeah that makes a lot of sense. 

What you were ten years ago isn’t who you are today, you know? Regardless of military or no military. You shed bull-shit, and you add new things you know? That doesn’t’ have to make sense to anyone. When I shut down my old life, a lot of people were like, “what the fuck are you doing?”, and it was the best decision of my life. 

Has it been challenging working so closely with GWOT Vets, making art that’s so closely connected to mental health, at least to an extent? Is that hard? 

I guess for me, my passion that I don’t share with many people is that I know and remember what it’s like to be in a dark space. I will always go back in there and turn on the light, or try to pull other people out. Every time you go back in there, it can be hard. Sometimes, I do hit burnout trying to depict these moments, and there’s personal pain that comes up. At the end of the day though, it’s motivating. For as dark as some of what happened in the GWOT is, I can take that and filter through the canvas and make something beautiful that the world can see.  

Having my partner has been a huge help as well. I can open up. In my former life, I didn’t have that, which ends up looking like bottling up your thoughts, trying to drink all the whiskey on the shelf. 

I’m glad to hear that. Sounds a lot less painful than trying to drink all the whiskey that exists in Guam. One thing that I’ve been struck by is the accuracy and detail in the way the warfighters look. I think it adds to the connection people feel, how do you approach that? 

Asking lots and lots of questions. I read war books, I’m obsessed with knowing war and the stories of war, but yeah I mainly just ask questions. “Why do you wear your kit like that?",and, "Why do people have their knives like that?"

It’s all the same thing. Everything you see in the paintings is something that somebody lived. Some of those things were horrible experiences, but we learned a lot from it. Let’s take all that shit and re-apply it. 

I really appreciate you talking with me, and I really admire your work. I think it does a lot for a lot of people. If you could send a message to Vets of the GWOT or the people in your art, what do you think you would say? 

Oh wow. I think I would tell them that they have a lot of insight on how to live and they need to share it. Share it with the police officers, share it with your neighbor, your siblings, you know? I learned a lot from those guys in the bar. Little things, little insights you picked up over twenty years of combat, share it with people. 

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For more on Sarah and her art visit https://www.invadergirlart.com/, or on instagram at @_invadergirl_ and on LikedIn.

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