Jon McNaughton's breakthrough 2010 painting, "The Forgotten Man."
It's gloomy on the ellipse. The White House glows softly behind a host of presidents assembled beneath a wine-dark sky. They've chosen where to stand roughly by party affiliation, with some editing for popularity. Democrats and Republicans-in-bad-odor are on the right. Opposite them, founding fathers and Ronald Reagan and Andrew Jackson stand arrayed behind a park bench. Richard Nixon glowers from deep in the crowd.
A man sits humbled on the bench; he is--conservatively--fourteen feet tall. George W. Bush points at him limply from across the way. The bench looks to be ill-designed and in some danger of collapsing on Abraham Lincoln's feet.
There is money strewn about on the ground, and some other indistinct yellowed scraps of paper. Barack Obama stands on the largest document like a Soviet statue, arms crossed, gazing out into the middle distance--his totalitarian mien somewhat betrayed by his waifish figure. You can tell from the way that Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln are hamming it up--scandalized--that this particular piece of paper is the Constitution. John F. Kennedy points at Obama limply from across the way.
Bill Clinton, FDR and Teddy Roosevelt give Obama a golf clap. Woodrow Wilson regards them smugly.
Jon McNaughton's newest piece, "The Empowered Man."
Dawn breaks to the north of the White House, and with it comes redemption.
The dejected giant from the last canvas has found his confidence. He has wrested Constitution from beneath Obama's careless loafer, and he holds it aloft triumphantly. In his other hand, he grips a wad of dollars. Were those his tax dollars strewn across the ground before? Well he has them back now, and doesn't seem likely to let them go again. The sun shines upon him like no other figure in the scene.
Obama--back on his heels--looks afraid that the everyman is about to strike him, but our hero pays him no attention.
Behind them, the presidential herd has thinned. Nixon has moved out of the frame. Bill Clinton's morning paper has arrived with the dawn; the headline is "FAILURE." Bill's hopeful applause have dissipated with the gloom, and he now stands downcast, his lips pursed. George W Bush smirks at something over Obama's shoulder. LBJ checks out W's butt, or is asleep--it's hard to tell. Meanwhile, on the winner's side of the canvas, a celebration has broken out. Lincoln and Washington applaud. Jefferson--ever the spiritual one--has fallen to a knee in thankful prayer. Reagan is jovial.
Most of the other bits of paper that were on the ground have been gathered together haphazardly on the bench. Are those federal laws? FDR holds one at his waist; perhaps it is the Social Security Act. He looks insecure.