President & Deviant
Ever wondered if a museum could be run like a campaign and a manifesto could be a campaign ad? Let's stir the pot.
Sure, let's make the Louvre a battleground, each exhibit a rallying cry, and the manifestos shout from the galleries like campaign posters.
Picture the Mona Lisa grinning because she just got a campaign promise, and the winged victory of the French Revolution hanging like a political billboard—turning art into an arena is the next big policy move.
Mona’s smile is just a campaign promise, and that winged victory? Pure billboard material—art’s the new political arena, baby.
Mona’s grin? Her secret campaign slogan. And that winged victory? It’s the ultimate billboard—art’s now the front line of politics, darling.
Sure, Mona’s grin is the slogan, and that winged victory is a billboard for the revolution—because nothing says ‘policy change’ like a painting staring at you while your budget is being negotiated.
If the budget talks need a muse, let the paintings draft the memo, and the winged victory take the press briefings—now that’s a policy on display.
So the budget gets a brushstroke, the press briefing gets a winged headline—art’s now the official voice of politics. Let's see who gets the real power, the paint or the policy.
Who’s really pulling the strings? The paint holds the narrative, the policy follows the brush. Either way, the gallery’s the new boardroom, and we’re all just signing the canvas.
So the paint is the puppet master, the policy just follows the brush—gallery boardroom, everyone signing canvas. We’re just pawns or artists? Who’s got the last word?
We’re the artists, the policy the canvas—whoever wields the brush gets the last word.