Creating effective satiric art is not easy. There are often a handful of tropes in circulation, and the urge to employ them for reasons of widespread association leads to some cliched imagery. Some political satiric illustrators and cartoonists “got it,” and others do not meet the standards of, say Edel Rodriguez or Barry Blitt. But for an artist to keep trying shows a tenacity that may pay with a memorable image, which is what it is all about—a metaphoric or realistic picture, like Thomas Nast’s Tammany Hall moneybags, that is forever a reminder of Boss Tweed’s corruption.
Frank Viva is a frequent New Yorker contributor whose work wittily captures the zeitgeist, but he is not acerbic. During President Trump’s first term, he tried pitching some political illustrations without success. Now with Trump 2.0 suggesting the annexation of Canada, Viva, a Canadian, is reconsidering how he can satirically comment on Trump once again.
He is candid about his struggles, and our chat below—featuring covers he has pitched to The New Yorker—sheds some light on how he goes about attempting to sell his graphic commentary.
In your many published New Yorker covers, you do not present yourself as a political artist. Do you have a secret (or not-so-secret) desire to be one?
It’s a secret because I haven’t had much success.
Have you been encouraged to actually take to finish any of the covers you’re showing here?
Sometimes a call for ideas goes out by email that is sent to a group of artists requesting a sketch about a newsworthy story that is unfolding in real time. It can be a story that just happened, or a story that is brewing but may or may not happen, or a story that is happening but might go one way or another. Sometimes the cover has to be turned around in a day or two. They always try to respond to a sketch if they can but you get the sense that it’s pretty hectic when that happens. The typographic “U” cover and the Schulz cover are responses to emails requesting a sketch. The rejection of the Schulz cover came with an encouraging note. I was happy with the typographic idea, if not the execution. Artists are also encouraged to send sketches throughout the year if an idea occurs to them that they think is worth consideration.
You told me that you have an acute case of Trump Derangement Syndrome (TDS). We’re showing your unpublished work now because he’s back. How are you coping?
I’m coping better this time. Although I did suffer from TDS during his first term, I seem to have built up some immunity over the last four years.
You also said, “I have inadvertently documented my descent into TDS madness,” and you’re considering re-pitching your earlier political ideas. What happened to your pitches last term?
The political cover ideas I have pitched since the beginning of Trump’s first term are a motley collection—some are rough pencils and others are close to publishable (technically), while the rest are somewhere in between. A few of them deal with Trump-adjacent topics like Ukraine and Roe v. Wade. Many were a reaction to one of the countless outrageous things that Trump said or did, soon forgotten because of the next wave of craziness. Several are more recent and were sent during the current election cycle.
Do you have limits or proscriptions as to how far you will go with your satire?
The toilet image [below] was from the first term, and I can’t see sending anything along those lines now. The Eustace Tilley sketches would never work because Eustace is a beloved mascot. I should have known that before sending them. I’m trying to narrow and refine my focus as I stumble along. Almost all of these suffer from not having had an engagement with [cover director] Françoise Mouly. I always hope that she will see something worth sharpening or exploring further.
You are not a satirist per se, right?
My published covers to date have all been sort of genteel, so I had no reason to expect that I could switch lanes once Trump was first elected. I was obsessed. I can see looking back that most were not good enough. It has been a journey of stubbornness and stupidity. Stupidity because I was risking annoyance at the receiving end.
How do you feel—and what is your strategy, if any—for dealing with Jan. 20 and beyond?
Like most journeys, it was not a complete waste of time. In the last few months I have submitted political cover ideas that were better-received and even considered (if only briefly) for publication. By submitting ideas and then seeing what was chosen week after week, I gained a better understanding of what could work for me. A unique voice is important. In my case this includes the use of typography, or an unexpected approach that the best of The New Yorker’s great political cartoonists would be unlikely to propose.
And what do you think that is?
Perhaps the best typographic sketch is the one with the central ‘U’ in “TRUMP” used to represent a chasm dividing the nation. The most promising reaction I received was the Charlie Brown and Lucy football cover, pitched shortly after Kamala entered the race and was seemingly doing better in the polls than Trump.
Cartoons are not great weapons when your audience, including me, is in an echo chamber. Half the nation loves Trump or MAGA. Another percentage is just settling in for the time being. What is the goal of your satiric politics?
In his first term, I had no goal in mind. Each sketch was just an expression of my exasperation. It’s true that the audience for political cartoons is, as you say, an echo chamber. These days, that’s probably true of most forms of political discourse. I’d like to be among the less-engaged percentage you mentioned and just settle in for a while. That would be the smart way to go. During his first term, I did have an acute case of TDS. Not so much now. The Trump enterprise seems more surreal than menacing this time around. Like a bad sitcom rerun with the same tired jokes and a similar cast of characters chewing up the scenery. I think the recent sketches that I submitted during the 2024 campaign are more measured than the ones from his first term. I feel more capable of providing a detached perspective—and with any luck, a bit of humor. So I do have a goal now: to try to use what I’ve learned. We’ll see how that goes.
Do you feel “good” about these ideas?
I find it difficult to come up with a good idea that also works well as a composition. And I’m up against some of the most talented artists around. A New Yorker cover is one of the most coveted gigs around and everybody wants to have a go. Some days I feel inspired to keep going. Some days I feel tired and inadequate to the task.