Almost every politician in America loses at some point, and does so very publicly. How candidates handle defeat is presented as a measure of the kind of leader — and person — they are. Political defeat offers satirists a golden opportunity to skewer politicians. Richard Nixon has for several decades served as a useful visual shorthand for political humiliation — even if, as in Pat Oliphant’s sketch here, Nixon was defiantly unrepentant as he was forced to resign.

How do we know who will be a capable leader? Who is ever truly ready to be President? The theme of capability and preparation has been a key touchstone for visual satirists throughout American history. Oliphant deftly skewered candidates who he felt showed themselves incapable of being strong leaders, in this case portraying Jimmy Carter cowering from the “killer rabbit” he encountered while fishing in Georgia in 1979.

Political satire is not a gentle art — it is meant to leave a mark. Since the heyday of James Gillray and William Hogarth in 18th-century England, visual satirists have been able to “say” things about political leaders in their illustrations that would get writers censored (or worse). As such, it has played an important role in American political culture for over two centuries. Here, Oliphant depicts President George W. Bush as an incompetent child entirely under the command of his older Vice President Dick Cheney.

Corruption has long been one of the most appealing themes to political satirists. Few failings are as clear-cut as the use of political power for personal enrichment, and few acts are such explicit betrayals of the public trust. Oliphant frequently pointed to exchanges of money for political favors. Spiro Agnew was an easy target. Agnew resigned as Vice President in 1973 after a trial exposed kickbacks he accepted while governor of Maryland.

Exaggerating politicians’ physical traits has long been a key element of visual satire. In a time before broadcast media, representation of specific traits made figures recognizable to readers who would likely never have seen that leader in person. Oliphant used Bob Dole’s glowering eyebrows to hint at Dole’s notoriously caustic wit.

Expert satirists like Oliphant emphasize a single physical trait to comment on a person’s character, and thus their fitness for office. Ross Perot’s Dumbo-esque ears let readers know that the Texas billionaire may be too eccentric and goofy to be President.

Many of the qualities that we most readily associate with political leaders in our past come to us from satirical illustrations, not from things those leaders actually did. This exhibit invites you to think about how visual satire has shaped the way you think about political life in America. What can visual artists say about politics that writers can’t? What role does visual satire play in American political life in an age when most of what we read (and see) is online, rather than in a newspaper?