You've probably heard that Shepard Fairey's original "Hope" poster was acquired recently by the National Portrait Gallery in D.C. and is now on view for the inaugural. I saw the poster today, along with some interesting portraits of former presidents (including a photorealistic but surreally content George W. Bush). But, owing to the fact that Fairey's Obama poster is literally being treated like the Mona Lisa—cordoned off, huge line to view it, one person or couple allowed in front of it at a time, security guards yelling if you snap an unauthorized picture—this was the best image I could bring you.
It doesn't do the scene justice. In my photo you see one person staring at the poster after having taken a digital picture of it. What you don't see: the crazy line, the insane crowds, and the repetition of couple after couple posing in front of the poster and having their pictures taken with Fairey's Obama. Which is an impulse I don't really understand. The whole point of the Fairey poster what that it would become a viral, iconic image that people could find anywhere and everywhere—and that's exactly what happened. You can buy knockoffs of the poster on the street here in D.C., you can print a copy from a fancy color printer if you have one, you can view the image online in a flash. It has achieved what it set out to achieve: the force of ubiquity.
I guess there's some allure to seeing the original, but to pose with it as if the original were the thing? That's missing the point. The copies, and their impact, were the thing.
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