“Keep the PWAP Alive!”
As the PWAP approached its scheduled end in the spring of 1934, a new wave of public sentiment swept across the country. The program had proven its worth—artistically, culturally, and economically—and many feared that ending it would squander a rare moment of national momentum. Newspapers, art societies, women’s clubs, and civic groups began to urge the Roosevelt administration to keep the program alive.
Advocates argued that the PWAP had already demonstrated something extraordinary: that public art could enrich communities, beautify public buildings, and give Americans a sense of shared identity. They insisted that the program should not be limited to relief work. If the government wanted the best art for its schools, libraries, post offices, and courthouses, it needed to engage the best artists—regardless of financial need.
Roosevelt’s Vision for Public Art
Supporters pointed to President Roosevelt’s own belief that murals and paintings were far more meaningful—and far more economical—than the ornate gold leaf and decorative scrollwork traditionally used in federal buildings. Art, they argued, would last longer, cost less, and speak more directly to the American people.
Women’s organizations were especially active. They encouraged their members to write to Washington, to petition local officials, and to advocate for artists whenever new public buildings were planned. Their message was simple: if America wanted beauty in its civic spaces, it needed to support the artists who could create it.
A National Debate: Should America Have an Under Secretary of Arts?
Amid this rising enthusiasm, a bold idea emerged: the United States should create an Under Secretary of Arts—a federal official dedicated to representing the nation’s cultural interests. The American Artists Professional League launched a nationwide referendum, asking its members whether such a position should be established.
The responses revealed a nation divided. Supporters argued that American art needed a clear point of contact in Washington, someone who could advocate for cultural policy and ensure that artists had a voice in national decisions. They pointed to the creation of the Departments of Commerce and Labor—once controversial, now essential.
Opponents feared that the position would become a political appointment, vulnerable to patronage, favoritism, and the shifting winds of Washington. They worried that art would be reduced to spoils, another arena for political cliques rather than a space for creative independence.
A Chorus of Voices
The referendum produced a remarkable range of opinions. Some warned against turning art societies into pressure groups. Others insisted that even symbolic recognition would be a step forward. Some believed the government was too chaotic to take on such a responsibility; others argued that without federal leadership, American art would remain vulnerable to neglect.
A few voices called for patience. Others demanded bold action. Some wanted a cabinet-level Minister of Fine Arts; others preferred a smaller office within the Bureau of Education. Many simply wanted someone—anyone—in Washington who could be held accountable when cultural decisions went wrong.
The Legacy of the PWAP
The PWAP lasted only a few months, but its impact was profound. It revealed the depth of American artistic talent, demonstrated the value of public art, and sparked a national conversation about the role of culture in public life. It inspired advocacy campaigns, political debates, and a renewed belief that art could be a public good rather than a private luxury.
From this moment of uncertainty and possibility would emerge the programs that defined the New Deal’s cultural legacy: the Treasury Section, TRAP, and the WPA Federal Art Project. The PWAP had shown what was possible. The programs that followed would build on its foundation, shaping American art for generations.