Let me tell you about the time I walked into what was supposed to be a celebration of American art—and came out feeling like I’d been sold a bill of goods wrapped in glitter and patriotism. The Trump administration’s latest cultural offering, a supposedly ‘patriotic’ art exhibit, is less a gallery and more a middle-school talent show where everyone’s wearing a flag pin. And honestly? It’s a masterclass in how not to curate anything that matters.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how it exposes the absurdity of treating art as a political tool. The exhibit, titled Passport to Patriotism, is a bizarre collision of algorithmic portraits of the Founding Fathers, glitter-covered doodles, and stock photos of cowboys that could’ve been pulled from a Hallmark card. But here’s the kicker: it’s not even about diplomacy, as the title shamelessly suggests. It’s about power. And not the kind that inspires—more like the kind that makes you want to leave the room and never look back.
Personally, I think the most glaring issue is the sheer lack of curation. This isn’t just lazy—it’s actively hostile to the idea of art as anything but propaganda. Take those AI-generated portraits of Washington and Hamilton. They’re supposed to humanize the Founders, right? But when you stare into the pixelated pores of a man who once owned slaves, what does that say about us? It says we’re trying to make history palatable, to sanitize it with technology. And that’s dangerous. Because if we can’t even look at our past without a filter, how do we ever learn from it?
Then there’s the art itself. I mean, come on. A flag sculpture made of toy soldiers? A canvas covered in glitter and the words ‘stop whining’? This isn’t art—it’s a Walmart clearance bin for the soul. And yet, it’s being funded by taxpayer dollars. What does that say about our priorities? That we’d rather subsidize a glitter explosion than support something that actually challenges us? It’s a chilling reflection of a culture that values sentimentality over substance, nostalgia over nuance.
But let’s talk about the people behind this. Because this isn’t just about bad art—it’s about who gets to decide what art is. Erin Scavino, the exhibit’s organizer, isn’t exactly a titan of the art world. She’s a former Apprentice contestant and the wife of a Trump aide. Her co-organizer? A guy who once sold pet food. And they’re the ones picking artists? It’s like letting a fast-food chain design the Louvre. The result? A cavalcade of cringe-worthy work by people with no credibility, all connected by personal ties to the Trump inner circle. It’s not nepotism—it’s a full-blown art heist.
And don’t get me started on the ‘happy art’ movement. The exhibit’s favorite artist, Brendan Murphy, is a self-proclaimed ‘positive energy’ purveyor who sells NFTs that look like they were made by a toddler with a glitter gun. His contribution? A giant astronaut made of steel and a flag word cloud that screams ‘corporate branding.’ This isn’t art—it’s a scam. And the fact that the State Department is funding it? That’s not just bad taste. It’s a betrayal of public trust.
What this really suggests is that under Trump, art isn’t about expression. It’s about control. Every piece in this exhibit is a weapon in a war against critical thinking. No context. No interpretation. Just flags, glitter, and the occasional stock photo of a pickup truck. It’s a deliberate erasure of complexity, a rejection of the messy, beautiful contradictions that make art—and America—worth caring about. And if you think this is an outlier, you’re wrong. This is the future of public art under a regime that sees creativity as a threat to its narrative.
So here’s the question: What happens when art becomes a propaganda tool? When the only message allowed is one of blind patriotism? The answer is simple. We lose something irreplaceable: the ability to see ourselves, flaws and all. And that’s a tragedy not just for artists, but for democracy itself.
