N o sooner had the Iraqi journalist Muntadhar al-Zaidi thrown his shoes in demonstration at the US president George Bush than people were requiring the offending products to be displayed in a nationwide museum. They didn’t make it that far: United States security forces damaged them while monitoring for dynamites Thankfully, the Trump child balloon dodged a comparable fate in July 2018, when it drifted above crowds that had gathered to oppose the president’s check out to the UK.
Ahead of Trump’s departure from the White House, the activists who developed and handled the blimp (its self-described “babysitters”) have actually decided to donate it to the Museum of London. The balloon will sit along with ephemera from the motions led by the suffragettes and Chartists. Still, unlike these causes, the battle against Trump and whatever he stands for– from rising inequality to the contamination of public discourse and the rise of the reactionary– is far from over.
There’s a danger that by positioning a piece of modern protest art in a museum, we develop a false sense of security that this chapter in history is closed. It’s a concern the blimp’s co-designer Matt Bonner wrestles with. “Taking a look at it afresh, with Trump clutching the phone with the blue Twitter screen, days after he has been banned from Twitter, it still resonates.”
Museums typically acquire artefacts when they are far from historic– a lot of the items at the Museum of London related to the suffragettes were donated when the fight for females’s franchise was still going on. Just recently managers have actually acquired placards from the anti-austerity demonstrations and the Black Lives Matter protests. Perhaps, just as with these things, in 100 years’ time visitors will look at the blimp as representative not of a contemporary battle, however as pa