Dare to be Different
After serving his country in the Queen’s Royal Hussars, Ben Ferrari found his purpose in his love of art. He is holding an exhibition of predominantly 19th century landscapes at Woodhill Park Estate, commencing in August.
“In the eyes of the world, being in your twenties you’re known for being a bit reckless, being unsure of the future, not caring about tomorrow, or not yet reaching your full potential. You're still a “kid.”
I was driving to France one weekend with a friend I’d met in Mannheim, Germany, whilst contracting for the U.S. military. I asked him a question. If he was to die tomorrow would he be happy with his life he’s had?
He said yes, he wouldn’t have any regrets. It got me thinking, I came to the same conclusion – I wouldn’t have any either. We’d both lived similar but different lives, both ex-Army, Armoured Regiments, him the Royal Tank Regiment and me Queen’s Royal Hussars. He is a year older than me at 27, so how can two men in their mid-twenties feel satisfied with their lives when we aren’t even in our 30’s?
The answer I felt worked the best was this - we both went into a machine where it didn’t matter who you were, what your skin colour was or who you liked, the machine was just that - a machine - it didn’t have feelings, its goal was to make soldiers out of civilians, but one thing the machine can’t do is drag people from their homes to become a soldier, that first step is completely voluntary, so that’s what we had in common.
That is what every soldier has in common, the will and the courage to take the first step. Thinking about that ‘first step’ made me realise my friend in Germany - who I'd only known a few months but had an instant bond with - shared something with me, a can-do attitude. An attitude to take risks and to stand out. People who are naturally introverts will find life fulfilment as a life long journey, they’re in no rush. People who ‘grab the bull by the horns’ want all the excitement all the time, so there was no surprise we both felt fulfilled. We both have had an extraordinarily interesting life because we went and got it.
I’m constantly reminded how lucky I am to have deliberately ‘not fitted in’ when I left school.
I had three choices, stay with my friends in North Wales and get a college course in Wrexham as a mechanic, knowing deep down I wouldn’t take it seriously at 16. Go to 6th form with the hopes of making it to university - I hated studying for GCSEs and barely scraped by with them, so this felt like an unlikely endeavour. My third choice was to join AFC Harrogate and let the military iron out my immaturities. I chose option 3.
The fact I could tell what was best for me even at a young age has stuck with me, knowing to do the right thing for me even if it wasn’t the easy option was a noble and worthwhile decision. Leaving your home to live with complete strangers at 16 isn’t an easy undertaking. My basic training was a year (compared to the adult entries being a few months) - we learned how to shoot, march, iron, live out in the field, and we got into a lot of trouble too. My platoon started with 48 junior soldiers; we passed out with just 18.
After my basic training i progressed to my delight to the Armour Centre Bovington. Here I finally felt like an adult. I turned up to Bovington with a note next to my name as being one of the most troublesome junior soldiers, I left 8 months later as one of the best. I really came into my own. One thing that I remember from both Harrogate and Bovington was my self-discipline. I really became a lot stricter on myself and how I made decisions. The final exercise we undertook which was all week in the field, I remember one night my ‘battle buddy’ (someone you do sentry duty with, help with admin, load magazines for etc) was having a hard time of staying awake on sentry - sentry duty or ‘stag’ in the military is one of the most important duties a soldier can do, although not very fun or enjoyable, especially in the middle of the night in freezing rain. However it's vitally important, as you and your battle buddy are in charge of the protection of all of your men in that section or platoon.
Most stag rotations last an hour, then it's the job of the next two battle buddies to relieve you. The hour came and passed and still no relief, strong words and anger was exchanged, however my battle buddy took it upon himself to relieve himself of stag and make his way back to his basha (the dug out where we slept) - I stayed put.
Five minutes turned to 10 turned to 15, the temptation for me to just follow suit and go to my basha and sleep was incredible, but I knew the consequences of my actions if I left my section without a guard.
After 15 minutes the next two relief guards finally arrived. I was angry at them for taking so long but nothing compared to the anger they soon felt having realised my battle buddy had left me in the lurch. The following day at 6am, a loud roar from our platoon sergeant bellowed out the name of the trooper who had abandoned his stag in the middle of the night.
The result? No stag for me the following night as I had proven a trustworthy and loyal soldier, and unholy beasting the likes of which had never been seen on the unfortunate trooper who gave in so soon.
I've used this real-life example of doing the right thing even though it’s hard and unpopular many times since. The army is extremely good at punishing those who are lazy and praising those who are bold.
A good friend, who recently worked for the U.S. army, was very similar to me in terms of trying his luck. I remember during our daily mile-long walk back to our barracks after PT, our sergeant was driving back up to the barracks. He yelled, “Any chance of a lift sergeant?” Everyone laughed as the chances of a lift up to the block was slim to none. “Jump in Trooper seal,” came the reply, “You’ve got balls to ask.” Dare to be different, give it a go, you never know!
The army isn’t work, it’s a brotherhood, it never ends. You learn an incredible amount about human behaviour extremely quickly. A favourite trick they used to pull was this - when there was an exercise on or a particularly nasty long distance walk or the brass were a few men short for cleaning tanks at the tank park, you’d all be brought together and the sergeant would ask “Who wants to go to South Wales to do dismounted cold climate exercises for 3 weeks? Any volunteers?”
Of course no one wanted to do it. Time would tick by, then a hand would go up. “Trooper Davies stand over there - any more?”
Then a few more minutes and a handful of unwilling hands. “Right, you three over there that volunteered, get yourselves off for the weekend ... the rest of you pack your bags your going to south Wales.” It was another perfect example of doing the right thing even though you don’t want to.
My army career was short and sweet.
Fast forward to the end of 2021, I landed a job on the railway with an opportunity (through volunteering) to work in Ireland. It was myself and another colleague, who just happened to be a veteran of the same regiment as me. Together in charge of all the weed spraying for the republic of Ireland, we took our shifts in weekly turns. One week I would maintain the weed spraying train (make sure it had water, chemicals, the engine that drove the pumping equipment was operable etc), then the next I would operate (sit next to the driver in the cab and operate the ipad style device that turned off and on the chemical pumps etc).
We operated this train with Irish rail for six months of the year, I did three Ireland campaigns. Doing what trains do best, they move from place to place so I got to see all of the Republic of Ireland several times over.
Why do I mention Ireland? Because it is here that my passion for art ignited. Having free time after work is good when you’re at home, because you have all your amenities, comforts and family around you. When you’re in a different country with nothing but fields and roads surrounding you, you get bored. I got bored. My parents’ wedding anniversary was fast approaching and I was scouring Ebay for a present.
Perhaps by chance or luck, an early 20th century painting of the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur in Paris graced my phone. I bought it without hesitation, a euphoric feeling coming over me. I’d just bought the only one in the world. It was special and unique, it was history, and it was beautiful.
Well, this kick started a passion for art that will be with me for life. At 22 I'd found my niche in the world, I dared to be different with the plan of opening my own gallery one day. It all made sense. I swapped out scrolling down Instagram for scrolling auction sites. I gave myself purpose by heading out after work to the National Gallery of Ireland.
When I worked in Hertfordshire I finished my nightshift at Broxbourne railway depot and jumped onto the train to get to Liverpool street for 07.00 am. I'd be first in line for the National Gallery every time.
I became truly obsessed, buying some works of art from people I'd met online, Facebook marketplace, word of mouth - it became my life. I have included below a photo of an Uzbek Woman, a painting by Uzbekistan's National artist, Alisher Mirzo. I paid a grand sum of 45 pounds for that piece, a lucky win off Facebook marketplace, I had it valued months later for an estimate of £1800. Not bad for a then 23-year-old collector.
But how does my passion for art tie in with being different?
Just like the army, it weeds out the dreamers. It’s not been easy, but it's been rewarding. Try doing something different from your whole family or your whole friendship group - it's hard. Be unique, because just like a Neon sign or a flashy car makes us stop and stare, people will take notice of you. We don’t hunt for diamonds and gold because they’re common.
You’ll start to realise your friends will start taking notice of you, they might even start asking you questions about something you’re passionate about. Your unique interest might spark their unique interest. It could end up in a passionate romance with somebody who feels the same way as you; it could even make you successful.
So, my advice at 26: dare to be unique, dare to be different, dare to have a go. Unique people make the world go round. They're the cornerstones of a colourful life. They’re funky, quirky, unusual, and likeable.
Everything we want in a human."
Ben Ferrari will be holding an exhibition of predominantly 19th century Landscapes at Woodhill Park Estate on August 9, September 19 and October 2 2025. Other viewings by appointment.
