Portraits of a nation in all its complexity
Browsing through Solid State Books, a charming new shop in Washington, D.C., I picked up a board book titled “This Little President: A Presidential Primer,” and smiled when I came across Barack Obama’s entry: “This little president is a family man. When others say, “We can’t,” he declares. “Yes, we can.’ ”
My smile faded when I turned to the last page and discovered a cartoon gallery of presidents — including Trump with his swoop of blond hair and a little grin. At least he wasn’t squinting his eyes and pursing his lips in his trademark disdain.
In the nearly two years of his presidency, I’ve often been outraged and in despair about the surge in hate crimes, his xenophobic attacks on immigrants, his administration’s willful denial of climate change, and more — in sum, the direction our country is taking, and what the future will hold for my twin sons.
While strolling to my next destination, I called my family.
“Should I visit the White House?” I asked.
“No!” Didi said. “You might get banned and have to leave the country.”
I assured them I wouldn’t get deported, and the boys wandered off to play.
“We’ve trained them well,” my husband said drily. We’ve talked to them at length about what’s been happening to immigrant families.
I started thinking about how Trump will be remembered, and what the state of the world will be. The question weighed on my mind even more that afternoon when I visited the National Portrait Gallery.
I was excited to see the stunning portraits of the Obamas, which were unveiled in February. When my turn came, I didn’t take a selfie with the portrait as so many others in line did; I wanted to let the power of Kehinde Wiley’s painting sweep over me wholly — the dazzling foliage that lights up Barack Obama’s introspective mien.
Nostalgia swept over me, followed by a sense of loss for the optimism many shared when he led the country. A flatscreen television in the exhibition ran a loop of documentary clips. As I watched a segment about the marriage equality victory in 2015, I got choked up, remembering the joy — at last, at last! — when our society seemingly became more inclusive and open-minded.
Last year, the presidential exhibition closed temporarily — from the end of February until September — while the Smithsonian renovated and updated it.
“We’re hoping to address the histories that are difficult as well as the history we celebrate,” the museum’s historian, Kate Lemay, told the Washington Post. “If you stick to the history, it will speak for itself.”
The text beside Obama’s portrait mentions that he became the first African American president, who “signaled a hope for the future” even as the U.S. economy fell into crisis. He enacted the Affordable Care Act and oversaw the drawdown of American troops that was “controversially replaced” with drone and air strikes. His mission to kill Osama bin Laden was successful, but he did not close the prison in Guantanamo, Cuba.
Bill Clinton’s biography states that he was the first Baby Boomer president, who curbed massive spending deficits, established NAFTA and reformed welfare, but failed to create universal health care. “Clinton’s denial of his sexual relationship with a White House intern, while under oath, led to his impeachment,” the text notes, but despite the scandal, Clinton made the Democratic Party more centrist and competitive against Republicans. It added that the artist who painted Clinton, Chuck Close, was accused of sexual harassment in 2017, though no charges were brought against him.
Trump’s portrait will join this gallery — sometime after his presidency ends in 2020 — or else — I’m dreading — after 2024, should he be re-elected. What will his biography say?
Feeling gloomy, I went upstairs to see Michelle Obama’s portrait, which is housed in the “20th Century Americans” exhibition. Her new memoir, “Becoming,” is the best-selling book of 2018, and I’ve been seeing the cover photo everywhere, with her wide, warm smile, and her shoulder bare.
Her shoulders remain on display in her striking portrait by Amy Sherald at the National Gallery, in a depiction that reflects her strength and dignity, grace and beauty. The gallery also includes distinctive portraits of hip-hop artist LL Cool J, Latina advocate Antonia Hernández, philanthropists Bill and Melinda Gates, biologist E.O. Wilson and author Toni Morrison, a bust of author Julie Otsuka, and others.
In contrast to the nearly all-white parade of men in the presidential exhibition one floor below, the diversity in this gallery renewed my hope. Change is still possible — change is still happening every day.
“We’re hoping to address the histories that are difficult as well as the history we celebrate.” National Portrait Gallery historian Kate Lemay