It is a move that stands out even in the long history of narcissistic state art: Donald Trump had his official portrait at the Colorado State Capitol swiftly replaced - because it did not flatter him enough. Or, as he put it on Truth Social: “Truly the worst!” And not the presidency, but the painting. The depiction, painted by renowned artist Sarah A. Boardman in 2019, had hung for years next to that of Barack Obama. A portrait that Trump claimed looked “distorted” - meaning probably the way he appears in most photos without a soft filter. The artwork showed the 45th President of the United States with the usual grim expression, a slightly crooked smile, and a face caught somewhere between offended and self-adoring. A clever artistic device - or simply reality. Trump, who has preferred mirrors to museums for decades, commented publicly on the painting on March 24, 2025. “I would much prefer not having a picture than having this one,” he wrote. A threat? A request? A brush-stroke hint? Whatever it was - the painting was taken down within 24 hours. Apparently, artistic freedom in Colorado bows to presidential vanity.
But the real coup came only now: a new portrait has adorned the hallowed rotunda of the statehouse in Denver ever since. Donated - as officially stated - by the White House. Which of course means: Trump picked it himself. Maybe he even painted it himself, with a gold frame, blow-dried hair, and a small Bible verse on the edge. In the new portrait, Trump appears younger, slimmer, and noticeably blonder than in real life - a kind of statesmanlike Instagram filter in oil. His skin like Mar-a-Lago gelatin, his chin determined, his pose heroic. Critics suspect the model may have been a PR photo from 2016, taken just before reality set in. The episode raises questions - not only about art and power, but also about the relationship between portrait and portrayed. Can a president dictate how he is represented in a public building? And what does it say about a society when a state chooses its icons based on the icon’s own preferences?
Art historians see the replacement as a dangerous precedent: “When portraits no longer reflect the artist’s vision but the ego of the subject, history turns into decoration,” says Professor Lydia Gellert from the University of Colorado. Others speak of “aesthetic autocracy,” some simply of “bad taste politics.” Meanwhile, Sarah A. Boardman remains silent about the removal of her work. Her portrait - once at the center of power - has since been stored away, presumably alongside discarded masks, wind turbines, and integration programs. Meanwhile, the new Trump painting basks in the spotlight - right where its subject likes to be most: at the center. Bigger than Obama. And probably in a frame that will soon be able to tweet. One thing remains true: those who write history today want to control how they appear in it. And Donald Trump, master of self-staging, has once again proven that nothing is sacred to him - except the image of himself.
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