Warning: this post contains a detailed artistic rendering of Donald Trump’s genitals
I’m standing in a ritzy London art gallery, and Donald Trump is the center of attention. For once, this makes him furious.
Perhaps the reason is because he’s pouting and butt naked, with a vanishingly small penis. In fairness, it is a painting of Trump, not the candidate in the flesh. (IRL, Trump likes to remind potential voters that size is not an issue with him).
But it’s still made him angry. James Nicholls, director of the Maddox Gallery, which has gamely put Donald’s junk on show, says the Trump organization has been in touch. In the manner of a Mayfair art director, he says they were “not nice” and leaves it at that.
Illma Gore, the 25-year-old behind the Trump nude, which is called “Make America Great Again,” says she’s had death and rape threats from Trump supporters. Facebook and other networks have pulled the image from their sites. Gore has been hit with take-down notices, which she has resisted.
But the resultant Streisand Effect has brought the work into the open, where Maddox is trying to sell it for $1 million.
Two frightfully well-spoken women come in to the gallery and titter at the painting, which is given the fake star treatment, behind a red velvet rope. It’s the only fenced-off painting in the building.
Four female students from Hong Kong drift in and give a similar, somewhat more giggly, reaction to the dowagers before. “We don’t often come to galleries,” they say.
Today's cover: Donald Trump defended his anatomy to score points against Marco Rubio https://t.co/FY1vMybetw pic.twitter.com/kk0uFtC73S
— New York Post (@nypost) March 4, 2016
Portraying Trump in such a ridiculous pose brings almost universal joy, I am told. Nicholls says his usually upper-crust gallery was flooded with tourists when the painting was unveiled, with people crowding around the picture for selfies and posing with their kids.
“I haven’t had one complaint—it’s been overwhelmingly positive,” he says. “One Trump supporter came in but even he was smiling after a while.”
For women in particular, laughter seems the only possible response. From me it wins a wry smile, and a twinge of pity.
I linger, and ultimately spend the best part of an hour poring over The Donald’s every bulge and gully. After a while I spy an almost-concealed nipple, beneath the right elbow at an almost inconceivable droop.
Aside from his trademark ‘do, I note that he is weirdly hairless.
The image bores into me a while longer. I feel like sticking around may be bad for my health, and I drag myself away—though it is an image I won’t soon forget.
