The Brits have not a few long standing traditions. One of these traditions is that the Imperial War Museum appoints an official war artist to create a piece from any war the nation finds itself involved in. Perhaps when the Museum commissioned McQueen in 2003 it expected a delicate short film, the artist's usual medium. McQueen was sent to Iraq, where he spent a fruitless six days barely allowed to leave the confines of his room. He returned to Europe with a few worthless photos, a rapidly approaching deadline and a complete dearth of ideas. Then, he says, when he "was thinking of something else, relaxed, sticking a stamp on my tax return in Amsterdam...it hit me...[a stamp] goes out into the world." He decided to create a body of stamps that bear the faces of British casualties. But when McQueen proposed his idea to the Museum, he was then referred to the Ministry of Defense for approval. After refusing to assist McQueen locate and contact families on the grounds that such a project might distress those grieving, the Ministry then asked him "why can't you just do landscapes?"

Luckily for McQueen, Alex Poots, director of Manchester's Central Library caught wind of the idea, took on the project and hired investigators to find the families.

For the most part, families responded positively––98 of 115 agreeing to send in pictures. According to Art Forum's Martin Herbert, families were asked to select a favorite photograph of their lost son, brother, wife, and so on these stamps "the dead smile, rise from swimming pools, appear smeared with camouflage paint, or stand at attention."

But McQueen is far from satisfied; he wants his work to be turned into real stamps. "I didn't want to create an artwork in a museum, sitting there catching dust," he says.

In March of this year a member of Parliament, Paul Flynn, called for a House of Commons debate to determine whether or not the stamps should be produced. Despite some muffled conflict the movement is gaining momentum. After all, it is a tough request for government to turn down without appearing to dismiss those who make the ultimate sacrifice. McQueen gleefully responds to the position he has put the government it: "It's obvious they've been put in a situation. Because how can you say no? Why would you say no?"

This exhibition has largely been ignored in the U.S. where it would bring up murky questions regarding America's censorship of the returning dead. What if one were to lobby for images of the thousands of American troops killed to appear on stamps? Or for than matter, stamps of the estimated 650,000 Iraqi civilians who have lost their lives during the course of "Operation: Iraqi Freedom?" With these images inserted into what McQueen calls "the bloodstream" of a nation, would the increasing numbness with which Americans view the war begin to evaporate? If, when you sealed a missive affixed with a stamp of the face of a dead soldier, would you start to tingle with the injustice of it all? Could the initial outrage be reinvigorated through such a small image?

These questions point to some of the prodigious implications for the art world that McQueen's project has surfaced. What are the capabilities and limitations of art? Do these stamps possess the agency necessary to reflect reality to the point that they could instigate action? Should these stamps come to fruition they would very likely infiltrate mainstream consciousness...and if they do not, then we shall see a reaffirmation of the definition of art, placing it squarely back in its assumed place, relegated behind the doors of museums, galleries and cinema.

The exhibition moves to the Imperial War Museum this summer.