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5 hours ago
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As if truffling thuggishly in pursuit of the Nobel peace prize wasn’t enough, the spectacle of bulldozers ripping into the White House is yet more evidence of Donald Trump’s unstinting quest for epic self-aggrandisement. Having decreed the East Wing not fit for purpose – namely, his purposes of swank and show – he plans to replace it with a faux classical bulletproof ballroom, capable of seating up to 650 partygoers.
Renderings show a vast, glacially white aircraft hangar of a structure embellished with an ornate coffered ceiling, gilded Corinthian columns and drooping gold chandeliers. Nero, who conceived the original domus aurea, would feel right at home. Costing $250m (£187.5m), a sum to be extracted from sycophantic donors, Trump’s ballroom is one of the most grandiose White House projects to be implemented in more than a century, as he strives to bend the building – and US architecture more generally – to his will.
On re-assuming the presidency, one of his first executive orders – under the title Making Federal Architecture Beautiful Again – mandated that “traditional and classical architecture” should be the preferred style for all federal public buildings, with Trump having the final veto on designs. A similarly prescriptive order was enacted during Trump’s first spell in office, only to be rescinded by Joe Biden.
So, having been here before, the American Institute of Architects is wearily wary, stating: “AIA is extremely concerned about any revisions that remove control from local communities, mandate official federal design preferences, or otherwise hinder design freedom, and add bureaucratic hurdles for federal buildings.”
White House occupants do have a history of tweaking, expanding and remodelling. Theodore Roosevelt added the West Wing, Richard Nixon installed a bowling lane and Harry S Truman commissioned an entire reconstruction. Several first ladies have revamped the decor and furnishings, notably Jackie Kennedy, whose soigné interiors were designed to connect the presidential home more resonantly with American history.
The now doomed East Wing, dating from 1902, has been a much-changed addition. Intermittently housing the office of the first lady, what’s left of it sits above the presidential emergency operations centre, a high security bunker built during the second world war. Vice-president Dick Cheney and his retinue retreated there during the 9/11 attacks, as did Trump at the start of the George Floyd protests in 2020.
The man who landed the ballroom job is James McCrery, founder of Washington-based McCrery Architects and a trenchant advocate of classical architecture. “Americans love classical architecture,” he has said, “because it is our formative architecture – and we love our nation’s formation.” Ironically, McCrery began his career working for Peter Eisenman, the high priest of deconstructivism, before a conversion of Damascene proportions prompted him to renounce the avant garde and “rethink his modernist education”.
Specialising in the design of “traditional” Catholic churches, McCrery was appointed by Trump during his first term to serve on the US Commission of Fine Arts, an independent federal agency with the power to review the “design and aesthetics” of all construction within Washington DC.
Trump’s style edicts and building bombast exude a dictator-for-life megalomania vibe, as he barrels through his second term, with an unconstitutional third potentially in his sights. However, he is said to dislike the White House, finding it on the poky side, preferring to decamp to his Floridian resort Mar-a-Lago at every opportunity. The tone for his latest stay in the White House was set by his patio-fication of the Rose Garden, but he is now clearly aiming for a legacy more substantial than a bit of paving.
His record as a “patron” of architecture has been shaped by his rollercoaster career as a property developer. To him, buildings are simply extruded capital. He has an enduring fondness for Louis XIV bling, epitomised by his enrobing of a 1960s Manhattan skyscraper in golden bronze cladding to transform it into the gleamingly phallic Trump International Hotel and Tower. His more recent engoldening of the Oval Office, described by White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt as a “golden office for the golden age”, has been unflatteringly compared to a professional wrestler’s dressing room.
Nonetheless, Trump’s experience as a developer was formative, in that it taught him he could get away with just about anything. It crystallised a poisonous bravado, now hardwired into the national political sphere. His fetishisation of classicism, a historically recurring comfort blanket for despots of all stripes, is bleakly predictable.
“It gives Trump a narrative of authority and tradition,” says Daniel Abramson, professor of architectural history at Boston University, “and fits into his overarching strategy of undermining the established elites, including in architecture.”
Another imperial wheeze, announced at a reception for prospective ballroom donors, is a huge triumphal arch, to be erected just across the Potomac river from the Lincoln Memorial. Modelled on the Parisian original and topped with a gilded, winged goddess of victory, the “Arc de Trump” is intended to commemorate the US’s 250th anniversary next year. In launching this newest vanity project, Trump said: “We love to fix up Washington.” Again, Nero would doubtless approve.
