Earlier this month, Danish artist Jens Galschiøt unveiled his controversial latest work: a sculpture of a naked Donald Trump, covered in gold leaf and displayed in the foyer of the European Parliament. The scandalous piece has reignited a centuries-old conversation about how art may be used as political critique. Though the use of art in shaping politicians’ careers is a renowned endeavour, its role in breaking them is just as fascinating.
The culture of this defamatory genre is somewhat elusive, but it can be traced back as far as the Renaissance. 14th to 16th century Italy saw the rise of the ‘Pittura Infamante,’ a style of painting and relief intended to humiliate criminals of all varieties. These artworks ranged from depicting petty thieves to significant political figures guilty of bankruptcy or fraud, in a host of compromising positions. Wearing a mitre, hanging upside down, or being presented amongst “unclean” animals were but a few of the contemporary acts of abasement. Interestingly, these portraits were viewed as a last resort for crimes which had no further legal resolution, providing an alternative sense of justice to the public, one which the government was unable to offer.
Since then, portraiture has continued to offer a means of holding those in power accountable, from Galschiøt’s flashy indictment of Trump, described on his website as “a satirical out-cry,” to Andy Warhol’s infamous 1972 lithograph of Richard Nixon, Vote McGovern, in which acidic neon tones transform a serious photograph of the then-president into a cartoonish mockery.
Notorious street artist Banksy’s shocking Monkey Queen (2003), only one of his inflammatory works of Queen Elizabeth II, replaced the much beloved monarch’s face with that of a chimpanzee, adorned by her signature curls and the crown jewels. An overt critique of the trivialities of the monarchy, the piece received enormous backlash from the public at the time, dubbed “Banksygate” by the press. In spite of this controversy, the limited prints of the work sell for tens of thousands of pounds, and have certainly made a splashy contribution to the ongoing discourse surrounding the relevancy of the royal family in today’s Britain.
Warhol and Banksy’s exploitation of the photography medium is especially relevant in today’s digital age, where political campaigns increasingly rely on camera footage. In 2009, David Cameron’s decision to hire a “vanity photographer” to document the activities of the Conservative Party made headlines, while today, such a position is taken for granted. As photography and film become more politically significant, it seems that the arts of painting and sculpture, particularly in portraiture, will follow, perhaps uniquely placed to offer criticism as they allow for non-representational – and occasionally insulting – likenesses of those they assess.
Photo by Sylvia Zhou on Unsplash
