The American capital is in crisis this morning as tourists and bureaucrats alike recoiled in horror from the Reflecting Pool, which has been inexplicably painted a sinister, jet black overnight. Witnesses describe scenes of utter chaos: grown men weeping into their overpriced lobbyist coffees, children shrieking as they mistook the obsidian expanse for a portal to the netherworld, and at least one senator reportedly trying to perform an impromptu seance to contact the spirit of George Washington. The pool, normally a placid mirror for the Lincoln Memorial, now resembles a giant, menacing puddle of crude oil, or perhaps the very tears of democracy itself.
The perpetrator? A rogue artist collective calling themselves ‘The Nullifiers’, who issued a manifesto claiming the paint job was ‘a visual representation of the American soul under the current administration’. Which administration, you might ask? All of them. The present, the past, and the yet-to-be-corrupted. It’s a bold statement, bold like declaring a martini dry when it’s clearly wet. This is, after all, the city that brought you political sausage-making and the eternal gridlock of I-495.
But the real outrage has come from across the pond. Britain’s National Trust, that bastion of well-manicured lawns and slightly sniffy tea rooms, has called the act ‘cultural vandalism of the highest order’. A spokesman, audibly trembling with restrained fury, stated: ‘This is not art. This is an affront to heritage, to taste, and to the very concept of reflection – both literal and metaphorical. We do not paint our historic water features black. We do not paint them at all. We let them become pleasantly green with algae over centuries, like God intended.’ The Trust has threatened to send a strongly worded letter and possibly cancel their subscription to the Washington Post.
The American response, predictably, has been a muddle of indignation and bafflement. The Department of the Interior has launched an inquiry, likely to be bogged down in red tape until the pool’s natural colour returns via bird droppings. Meanwhile, a GoFundMe has been set up to ‘Restore the Reflecting Pool’s Whiteness’, which has already raised $47,000 from people who think this is somehow about racism. It’s not. Or maybe it is. In this city, everything is. The artist collective has since released a terse follow-up: ‘The pool was already reflecting nothing. We merely brought the void to the surface.’
As I file this report, I am sipping a gin and tonic from a flask behind a potted plant in the lobby of the Willard Hotel. The ice has melted, but my resolve has not. I have seen the future, and it is a reflecting pool painted black. It is absurd, infuriating, and utterly predictable. The National Trust can huff and puff all they like, but the truth is that Britain has its own share of cultural vandalism. They painted their phone boxes red, for goodness sake. And don’t even get me started on the traffic cone. So here we are, two nations divided by a common language and a mutual inability to leave well enough alone. The pool will be drained, scrubbed, and refilled by Tuesday. But the stain on the American psyche might take a bit longer to fade.
