Whatever happened to Columbia, the star-spangled female equivalent of Uncle Sam? Someone obviously needs to look after the old man now that he's suffering from a terminal combination of economic Parkinson's and cancer of the government. It's a dirty job and thankless task but someone has to do it, otherwise Uncle Sam will end up with a live-in Chinese nurse. Much better to keep the home care in the family, if you ask me.
Columbia would have made a much better image for America than her wild-eyed, finger-pointing male counterpart. All the truly great personifications of nations and states have always been formidable female figures: Athena, Britannia, Marianne, Mother Russia, and even the she-wolf of Rome. So why did we adopt this geriatric cartoon with a goatee? Let's face it, Uncle Sam belongs on the sports field at half-time, selling hot dogs and cold drinks from his wheelchair.
If only Maxfield Parrish had wrapped his daughter in Old Glory and painted her at sunrise, then perhaps Columbia might have stood a chance. Alas, all the illustrations I have seen of her depict a dowdy matron in a pantsuit of stars-and-stripes; or wearing some sort of dull, white shift with a plain blue wrap. It is little wonder that she was shunted into the shadows of early twentieth-century Americana and told to keep quiet.
you know--its a pretty good idea for a painting...
Posted by: Mia Wolff | April 09, 2011 at 08:22
She refused to go topless like Marianne and it killed her career.
Posted by: Carter | April 15, 2011 at 14:08