The Art of Government Murals

Jesse Sparks

So, have you ever heard about the time the government decided to solve the Great Depression by hiring artists? I mean, I get it, if you can't afford bread, maybe a mural will do the trick. But seriously, the Treasury Department's Section of Fine Arts was a thing, and they were like, 'Hey artists, want to paint some walls? We'll even pay you!'

Jesse Sparks

And where did they decide to put these murals? Post offices! Because if there's one thing people love more than waiting in line to mail a package, it's staring at a painting they don't understand. But these weren't just any paintings. They were supposed to represent the local community. Like, if you lived in a place where everyone was a farmer, you'd see a mural of, you guessed it, farmers. Or maybe a barn. Or a cow. You get the idea.

Jesse Sparks

One of my favorites is the Barefoot Mailman. I mean, who doesn't love a hero who walks 100 kilometers down the Florida coast barefoot? And not just walks, but carries mail, fights alligators, and probably does some juggling on the side. It's like an epic adventure, except instead of finding a treasure, he delivers a letter. 'Hey, your Aunt Sally sent you a birthday card! Congrats, you survived another year in the wild!'

Jesse Sparks

But here's the kicker: a lot of art critics back then were like, 'These murals are too simple. They're not abstract enough. They're not European enough.' I mean, come on, people! The whole point was to make art that everyone could understand. You don't need a Ph.D. to appreciate a painting of a farmer plowing a field. It's a farmer! Plowing a field! What more do you want? A haiku about the existential struggle of the plow?

Jesse Sparks

And let's talk about travel expenses. You know, the artists were supposed to visit the communities they were painting, but sometimes that wasn't possible. So, you might end up with a mural of a town where the oxen look like they're from a different planet, and the men driving them look like they've never seen an ox before. Like, one artist painted a mural of men driving oxen in Shelton, Washington, and the postmistress was like, 'Uh, those men look mean. They wouldn't even be allowed to touch the oxen.'

Jesse Sparks

But despite the occasional misstep, most communities loved their murals. They were positive, uplifting, and made the post office look a lot less like a place where you go to wait in line and a lot more like a place where you go to feel a sense of community. And that, my friends, is the true power of art. Or at least, government-sponsored art.

Jesse Sparks

Take Richard Haynes, for example. He visited Shelton and painted a mural of men driving oxen. But the postmistress was like, 'Hey, you got the men in the wrong position, and they look mean. Oxen are gentle animals, and those men wouldn't even be allowed to touch them.' So, Richard had to go back and fix it. I mean, imagine if you painted a mural and the postmistress told you, 'Your cows are too happy.'

Jesse Sparks

These murals often romanticized everyday life. Like, the mural of the Barefoot Mailman makes it sound like he's a superhero. But in reality, he's just a guy with really tough feet. 'Hey, I'm the Barefoot Mailman! I deliver letters and fight alligators with my bare hands!' 'No, you just walk on the beach and carry a sack of mail. But hey, it's a living.'

Jesse Sparks

And the best part? These murals were painted in a style called American scene painting. It's all about images that are easily recognized by locals. So, if you lived in a place where everyone was a farmer, you'd see a mural of, you know, farmers. Not abstract shapes or something that looks like a Picasso. Just simple, straightforward art that makes you go, 'Oh, I recognize that!'

Jesse Sparks

But of course, there were those art historians who were like, 'This is too simple. It's not complex enough. It's not abstract enough.' I mean, come on, people! The whole point was to make art that everyone could understand. You don't need a Ph.D. to appreciate a painting of a barn. It's a barn! What more do you want? A deep, existential conversation about the meaning of barns?