In a peculiar twist that melds politics with personal image, President Donald Trump has made headlines again—this time by criticizing a newly removed portrait of himself while receiving a fresh depiction from Russian President Vladimir Putin. The saga began on March 23, 2025, when Trump took to his Truth Social platform to vent frustration over a painting that depicted him in Colorado’s State Capitol. Describing it as "truly the worst", he expressed his distaste rather emphatically, stating, "I would much prefer not having a picture than having this one." This paints a picture of a man sensitive to representations of himself, drawing ire and amusement from both critics and supporters alike.
The artist behind the controversial Colorado portrait, British-born Sarah A. Boardman, spent four months on the project, which was commissioned by a Republican admirer of Trump back in 2019. Initially, the painting filled a void left when a prankster hung a portrait of Russian President Vladimir Putin in the contested space—an act that sparked controversy and a subsequent fundraising effort to replace it with a sanctioned depiction of Trump.
On March 24, amidst the uproar over the criticism, House Democrats announced that the painting would be removed at the request of Senate Minority Leader Paul Lundeen, who sought a replacement that would showcase what he deemed Trump’s “contemporary likeness.” The Democratic response to Trump's issue raised eyebrows, with spokesperson Jarrett Freedman saying, “If the GOP wants to spend time and money on which portrait of Trump hangs in the Capitol, then that’s up to them.” Political gamesmanship aside, Trump’s tirade seemed reminiscent of a child disappointed by a birthday present—one manifesting a delicate ego evident in his critique.
The responses to Trump's criticism were varied and amusing on social media, with commentators noting the irony of a president so vociferously upset over such an artistic representation. MSNBC's Sam Stein quipped about Trump’s love for self-promotion and Vanity Fair editor Ron Filipkowski referred to him as “the most fragile, sensitive snowflake in history.” Their reactions gave rise to a wave of jokes and memes, capturing how Trump's portrait debacle struck a chord with both sides of the political aisle.
Meanwhile, Steve Witkoff, Trump’s envoy, confirmed that the new portrait, which he described as a "beautiful" gift from Putin should be transported to the White House. Witkoff conveyed that this was indeed a “personal gift” from the Russian leader, who reportedly expressed his hopes and prayers for Trump following an assassination attempt he survived during his last rally in Pennsylvania.
The dynamics of portrait-making are indeed interesting when put under the microscope of presidential politics. Once hung in the Capitol, each painting is a capsule of its time, likely to be scrutinized for artistic merit as much as political implications. A former Republican state senator crowdfunded nearly $10,000 to ensure the painting made its way into the Capitol, showcasing the lengths some have gone to ensure Trump’s likeness is present in places of importance. Yet, the prevailing issue seemed to be that the portrait, like Trump himself, must elicit strong reactions—good or bad.
As Trump noted ceaselessly, “Nobody likes a bad picture or painting of themselves.” This admission, while ostensibly trivial, invites a more profound question about what constitutes a "bad portrait," and more critically, what qualifies a good one. With such strong personal feelings expressed, one could ponder how much artistic merit is overshadowed by the subject’s expectations, and how the public perception molds artistic evaluations.
The reactions from the public also reflect a microcosm of wider societal sentiments regarding Trump’s expressive demeanor. Visitors began to flock to the Capitol to pose with his portrait after the outburst, with mixed reactions. Aaron Howe, a tourist from Wyoming, remarked, “Honestly, he looks a little chubby,” yet did find it ‘better than I could do.’ Being just another witness to the bizarre expression of discontent stemming from public representation, visitors deemed the painting a battleground of public perception rather than just a piece of artwork.
Amidst all this, Trump’s praise for his predecessor Barack Obama’s presidential portrait speaks volumes about the former president's precarious public image. Describing Obama’s portrayal as looking "wonderful," Trump reflected on his insecurities but also indirectly acknowledged the artistic norms that favor smooth public personas—something art often represents beyond physical likeness.
Ultimately, the saga surrounding Trump’s turbulent relationship with his portraits—and public images at large—hints at deeper themes of identity, political expression, and the undying negotiation between personal self-worth and public perception. A painting imprinted onto the Capitol wall may serve as a mere reflection, yet the concurrent narratives around them reveal not only the artist’s vision but also the subjects—and by extension, society’s—values and emotional investments.
