From red hats to spray tans, Donald Trump has made his look unavoidable. More nefariously, the imagery of the Trump administration has been central to projecting its distinct flavor of white Christian nationalism. Interpreting the ongoing White House renovations through an art historical lens offers one way to grasp Trump’s unfolding authoritarian project.
Art and architecture have long been used by those seeking power to materialize political ideologies and stamp their mark on culture. Aesthetic qualities like colors, shapes, and sounds have a unique ability to incite an emotional response, shaping how we physically experience politics. Visual cues come to symbolize much more than what we see; they are weaponized as propaganda, used to brand movements, and signal in-group affinity.
The imagery of the Trump administration has been central to projecting its distinct flavor of white Christian nationalism.
Shattering any tradition of presidential modesty, Trump has overpowered the White House with Mar-a-Lago maximalism. He has moved quickly and unforgivingly: destroying the entire East Wing without congressional approval to build a ballroom, paving over the iconic Rose Garden with concrete, and tricking out numerous rooms and hallways with marble and gold. In the Grand Foyer hangs a portrait of a blood-spattered Trump thrusting his fist at the July 2024 assassination attempt, literally painting himself as a hero. There’s also the Presidential Walk of Fame/smear campaign where he has plastered his Zoolander-esque portrait and replaced Biden’s photo with an autopen.
While the president has the liberty to decorate the Oval Office, Trump’s renovations make an egotistical point of excess. His aesthetic approach can largely be summed up by an inclination to add gold to as much as possible: gold trimmings, gold urns, gold Trump branded coasters. As recognizably the most important and public room in the White House, the decorations stretch beyond a matter of taste. They give form to Trump’s obvious fixation with wealth and image as this administration viciously guts the critical programs that underpin the health and safety of American society like social welfare, medical research, and environmental protections, among many others.
Shattering any tradition of presidential modesty, Trump has overpowered the White House with Mar-a-Lago maximalism.
I spoke with WashU Art History professor Dr. James about decoding Trump’s aesthetic choices. She explains Trump is likely looking to the Gilded Age and antiquity to construct his own sense of authority and power. The Gilded Age of the late 1800s cemented the U.S.’s position as a major economic power, though rampant with corruption and poverty. Propelled by ruthless capitalism, labor exploitation, and ecological degradation, the growing industrial economy produced extraordinary wealth for a small number of elites. Despite these bitter conditions, Trump has been vocal in his admiration for the era, attributing its prosperity to high tariffs and inspiring his own policies. As Inae Oh explains, in venerating this period, “Trump builds on old American ideals – empire and capitalism.”
The name Gilded Age may hint as to what was in fashion: asserting one’s economic and social status through outward displays of opulence. Turning to artistic patronage, wealthy financial titans like J.P. Morgan and Henry Clay Frick amassed grand collections, in particular, art of the Italian Renaissance. But this story is as old as time. The popes of the Italian Renaissance themselves used art and architectural patronage to affirm their political and spiritual authority. The Christian Church has long justified its rule by presenting itself as heir to the legacy of classical Greco-Roman society.
Trump has explicitly invoked this tradition, weaponizing his executive power to import the perceived legitimacy associated with ancient society onto his vision for the United States. In August 2025, Trump signed the executive order “Making Federal Architecture Beautiful Again,” establishing the vocabulary of Greek and Roman antiquity as the preferred style for new civic buildings.
Trump is not the first to co-opt the visual language of antiquity to justify projects of authoritarianism. Other notable examples include Hitler and Mussolini. As art critic Ben Davis observes, “the symbolism of antiquity is Fascist Aesthetics 101.” Hitler projected his racist project onto the Roman figural form, stylizing the classic marbled sculptures as an ideal white male body. Mussolini drew inspiration from the hypermilitancy and hypermasculinity of the Roman Empire as a model for Italian nationalist power.
Trump is not the first to co-opt the visual language of antiquity to justify projects of authoritarianism. Other notable examples include Hitler and Mussolini.
The appropriation of antiquity has spread in contemporary American society. Donna Zuckerberg, classicist and sister of Mark Zuckerberg, calls out a recent wave of alt-right men staking claims to antiquity as the starting point of ‘Western civilization.’ As such, they imagine this notion of racialized nationalism and seek to defend a legacy of ‘white culture.’ Yet our modern conceptions of race had no real grounding in ancient society, making any such beliefs historically inaccurate and simply white supremacism.
Trump’s glorification of antiquity must be read within the broader context of his efforts to centralize authority and assert unilateral control at every turn of his presidency. Taxpayer money is poured into conspicuous displays of wealth for the elite while the violent and corrupt policies of the Trump administration slice away at the checks and balances of the American democratic system. These aesthetic choices are deployed as a blunt assertion of power, democratic unaccountability, and despotism.
Ellie Budde ‘26 studies in the College of Arts & Sciences. She can be reached at budde.e@wustl.edu.