Kelsey Ables

When David Hockney in the 1960s turned his attention to a photograph of a splash-splattered swimming pool, he did what most of us today, immersed in an endless stream of digital images, do not. He kept looking.
For two weeks, the artist worked tirelessly from the photo to perfect his rendition in his acrylic painting A Bigger Splash, of the dancing droplets that erupted when some long-forgotten swimmer threw themselves into the deep end. The splash ended in an instant.

On a recent morning at Chicago’s new Obama Presidential Center, the institution’s leadership discussed presidential papers the way a decluttering convert might talk about some old sweaters they tossed because they did not spark joy.
The campus contains many features sure to delight the misty-eyed visitors who will flock here once it opens, on June 19: a museum that can come across like a pep talk from a more hopeful time; a light-filled basketball court; a whimsical playground; a public library.

Ever since President Trump started playing armchair museum curator last year, the White House has employed a number of strategies to try to influence exhibitions at the Smithsonian. It has sent threatening letters, published a memo that reads like an exhibit hit list, and even resorted to an occasional bit of online trolling.

Winning a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities can take months of preparation and can require multiple attempts. So last year, when DOGE officials with no humanities experience yanked the funds of hundreds of grantees using little more than a chatbot and a haphazard search for terms such as BIPOC and gay, it stung.