WASHINGTON — President Trump’s design for the Triumphal Arch he wants built at an entrance to the nation’s capital moved a step forward Thursday after a key agency reviewed the proposal for the first time. One commissioner suggested changes, including losing the Lady Liberty-like statue and pair of eagles that would sit on top of the arch and add to its height.
The arch is one of several projects that the Republican president is pursuing alongside a White House ballroom to leave his lasting imprint on Washington.
The U.S. Commission of Fine Arts voted to approve the concept design for the arch. The seven commissioners, all appointed by Trump, will review an updated version of the design before taking a final vote at a future meeting.
Trump said last week on social media that the arch “will be the GREATEST and MOST BEAUTIFUL Triumphal Arch, anywhere in the World” and a “wonderful addition to the Washington D.C. area for all Americans to enjoy for many decades to come!”
Also on the agenda for the commission’s monthly meeting was his plan to paint the gray granite exterior of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, which is next to the White House, white.
A third White House-related project, construction of an underground center to conduct security screenings of tourists and other guests, was also up for consideration.
Triumphal Arch
The arch would stand 250 feet tall from its base to a torch held aloft by a Lady Liberty-like figure atop the structure. That figure would be flanked up top by two eagles and guarded at the base by four lions — all gilded. The phrases “One Nation Under God” and “Liberty and Justice for All” would be inscribed in gold lettering atop either side of the monument.
The commission’s vice chairman, architect James McCrery II, said he preferred the arch without the figure and eagles on top. McCrery also objected to the lions on the base.
The arch would be built on a human-made island managed by the National Park Service on the Virginia side of the Potomac River at the end of Memorial Bridge from the Lincoln Memorial in Washington. The arch would dwarf the Lincoln Memorial, which is 99 feet tall, and be close to half the height of the Washington Monument, an obelisk that is about 555 feet tall.
White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt said Wednesday that the arch’s 250-foot height will honor America’s 250 years of existence.
A group of veterans and a historian has sued in federal court to block construction on the grounds that the arch would disrupt the sightline between the Lincoln Memorial and Arlington House at Arlington National Cemetery, among other reasons.
Underground screening center for White House visitors
The U.S. Secret Service, Interior Department, National Park Service, and the Executive Office of the President want to start construction in August on a 33,000-square-foot (3,066-square-meter) center to screen tourists and other visitors to the White House.
It would be built beneath Sherman Park, federal land southwest of the White House, to provide a more secure place to screen those going on White House tours or attending events. The new facility would have seven lanes to ease processing and reduce wait times.
Officials want it operating by July 2028, six months before Trump’s term ends.
Eisenhower Executive Office Building paint job
Trump said the Executive Office Building is beautiful, but he does not like its gray exterior.
“It’s one of the most beautiful buildings anywhere in Washington,” Trump said in August. “I think it’s just incredible, but you have to get past the color because the stone they used was a really bad color.”
Two proposals were given to the commission: Cover the entire building in bright white or paint most of it white while leaving untouched the granite on the exposed basement and subbasement.
In written materials, the White House said the building has been largely neglected since its construction. It said the building’s color, design and massing do not “align visually with the surrounding architecture” and lack ”any symbolic cohesion with the White House.”
The paint job is also the subject of litigation in federal court.
The building sits across a driveway from the West Wing. It was completed in 1888 after 17 years of construction, and its granite, slate, and cast iron exterior makes it one of America’s best examples of the French Second Empire style of architecture.
It originally housed the departments of State, War and Navy. It currently houses offices for the vice president and the National Security Council, among others.
The building is a National Historic Landmark and is also listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
Within the first 72 hours of a 26-day game, “Survivor 50,” featuring 24 veteran players, had already delivered feuding, anguish and heartbreak. Legendary rivals Ozzy Lusth and Benjamin “Coach” Wade appeared to bury the hatchet, only for their conflict to reignite soon after. Kyle Fraser was forced out due to injury, and Jenna Lewis-Dougherty, who competed in both the show’s inaugural season and “All-Stars,” was the first person voted out after more than two decades away from the game.
Yet there were also moments of nostalgia, connection and excitement as returning players arrived on the beach, grateful to be part of the show’s landmark 50th season.
This raw display of humanity has kept the show’s torch burning for over 25 years. “‘Survivor’ is built on a timeless idea because human nature doesn’t change,” says Jeff Probst, the host, executive producer and showrunner of the reality competition series. “It’s essentially behavioral psychology in the wild.”
Back in Fiji’s Mamanuca Islands for “Survivor 50: In the Hands of Fans,” the show has added a novel element. Fans were given a say in key decisions, voting online to shape production and game mechanics, from choosing tribe colors to requiring castaways to earn rice and supplies instead of receiving them at the start.
“What a great twist,” says Wade in an interview over Zoom. “‘In the Hands of Fans’ transforms the game. Instead of it being, ‘They are playing,’ it’s ‘We are playing.’”
Though he was disappointed to be deprived of staples upon his arrival, he smiles and says that if he were watching at home rather than competing, he also would have wanted players to start with nothing.
Singer-songwriter and “Survivor” superfan Zac Brown coooked and performed for contestants on the show.(Robert Voets/CBS)
“Survivor” has also leaned into its famous fan base this season, bringing in self-proclaimed superfans, including Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Zac Brown — who appeared in Episode 4 as a reward for a winning tribe for whom he spearfishes, cooks and performs. The show also nods to Billie Eilish via the Billie Eilish Boomerang Idol featured in the season premiere. The game piece was handpicked by the Oscar- and Grammy-winning pop star — whose 2022 song “TV” references “Survivor” — and accompanied by a letter in which she outlined its instructions.
But Mike White, creator of “The White Lotus,” represents the show’s most intertwined cultural crossover. He drew inspiration for his hit HBO series from “Survivor” and cast several former tribemates in cameos. “Survivor 50” also features “The White Lotus” Easter eggs.
Returning to the franchise for the first time since he finished as runner-up in 2018, in the Season 50 premiere he says, tearfully, “There are times in ‘White Lotus’ where I’m so fried … it’s a 129-day shoot, but I look back on my ‘Survivor’ experience, and I’m like, ‘Dude, I did that and I can do this.’” Yet White’s hard-won resilience couldn’t protect him from being voted out in a blindside in Episode 4, proving that fame offers no immunity.
And that is the point. At its core, “Survivor” is about watching people from all walks of life dropped into a remote, unforgiving landscape where they must outwit, outplay and outlast one another for a $1 million prize — hungry, exhausted and sore, roasting in the blazing sun or shivering through rainstorms, and enduring grueling physical competitions. They must cooperate with the very people they’re competing against. And as alliances form and fracture, each day grows more fraught.
Former “Survivor” contestants Mike White, left, and Quintavius “Q” Burdette in Season 50.
(Robert Voets/CBS)
“It’s very simple but very deep,” Probst says. “The goal is not to get voted out, but the strategy in achieving that goal is infinite, so the game’s easy to understand, but it’s impossible to master. That’s why it’s so much fun to watch. You’re constantly asking yourself, ‘What would I do?’”
It’s one thing to ask from the comfort of home, but another to live it out, and on national television to boot, says Wade. Coach “When you step on that beach, the stakes are so much higher,” he explains. “Nobody really thinks about the million dollars. They’re thinking about surviving, not getting voted off.”
“Most people would be able to do it,” he continues. “But what you’d realize is what happens to your character and your facade when you’re deprived of everything — food, comfort, reaching out to your friends and having a support system that you know and trust. When you strip all of that away, this stops being a game, and your character will be forged, revealed or shattered.”
A four-time player, Season 23 runner-up and 2015 Survivor Hall of Fame inductee, Coach is one of the show’s most legendary figures. Known as the Dragon Slayer, he’s often shown meditating, praying, waxing philosophical, and pontificating on nobility, integrity and honor. His grandiose persona rubbed many the wrong way early on, earning him a villain label.
Reflecting on his legacy, Wade partly blames the edit but acknowledges he often took himself too seriously, was arrogant, and tried too hard to be larger than life, yet he stresses his authenticity. “The way I look, dress and talk — I’m polarizing,” he says. “That’s who I am in my real life, so that’s who I am out there.”
Probst affirms that what you see is what you get. “Coach shows up authentically every day,” he says. “He wears his mythology on his sleeve and has it tattooed on his body. When he pulls back his hair into a ponytail and quotes Magellan, that’s Coach: ‘I’m the guy with quotes about war and victory and fearlessness and courage. That’s actually who I am.’”
This season, Wade calls himself “Coach 4.0,” but Probst remains skeptical. “Every time he plays, Coach refers to himself as the new version of Coach,” Probst says. “But the minute he starts talking, everybody thinks the same thing: ‘Coach, you may have some more maturity and life experiences now that you’re married and have kids, but you’re exactly the same.’”
That’s not a critique of Coach. After observing more than 750 players over 25 years, Probst believes, “We are capable of much more than we think we are, and simultaneously, at our core, we generally are who we are. It doesn’t mean you can’t change or become a better version of yourself, but you’re going to have some core instincts.”
Benjamin “Coach” Wade in “Survivor 50.” (Robert Voets/CBS)
Coach in 2011’s “Survivor: South Pacific,” the show’s 23rd season. (Monty Brinton/CBS)
The show’s unflinching exploration of human nature traces back to visionary British television producer Charlie Parsons. He conceived the social experiment based on a combination of his curiosity about people, the influence of “Lord of the Flies” and “Robinson Crusoe,” and his boarding school experience.
“It was an all-boys school and quite a competitive place, so there was an element of survival in that,” Parsons says over Zoom. “It wasn’t a bad experience, but if you’re 13 and you’ve never lived away from home before, it can be quite a wrench to live for a month at a time away from your parents. On one occasion I called my parents and said, ‘Will you rescue me?’ And they didn’t.”
In 1988, Parsons turned his concept into “The Castaways,” a three-part documentary for a magazine-style television program he was showrunning.
Several years later, he was approached by Disney’s Buena Vista Productions to make an American version of a successful British morning show he created. When that didn’t pan out, he pitched what would eventually become “Survivor,” developing it with Buena Vista in hopes of selling it to ABC.
But, he says, the radical concept didn’t fit neatly into existing TV genres, and the network balked. “It’s difficult to imagine, but back in the ‘90s this idea of reality TV basically didn’t exist,” Parsons says. “Television was reasonably siloed … ABC took a long time deciding because they could see that there was something about it, but in the end they passed.”
In 1997, however, the concept found immediate success in Sweden with “Expedition Robinson,” leading to expansion in more Scandinavian countries.
The leap to America required a new alliance. During Parsons’ development process with Buena Vista, he’d met fellow British TV producer Mark Burnett at a party in Los Angeles where he’d told him about the reality competition format he was building. Burnett then called every six months pressing to produce it until Parsons finally agreed to grant him the American licensing rights.
“Mark had an incredible energy and presence, which meant that he could go and sell the s— out of it,” Parsons says. “He could persuade the networks to take a risk on something risky.”
Even so, as Burnett relayed in a comprehensive 2010 Television Academy interview, he faced a difficult pitching process. But after every major network passed, he re-approached CBS, where then-CEO and President Les Moonves was game to try original programming during summertime when reruns caused dwindling viewership. But when Moonves commissioned a pilot, Burnett said a stand-alone episode was too costly and couldn’t capture the show’s slow-burn endgame.
Instead, he proposed a sponsorship model built on integrating products into the game, pitching the value of a castaway using a branded cellphone to call home, or the desperation for a slice of pizza and a beer. After Burnett secured corporate sponsors, Moonves greenlighted “Survivor.”
Though firmly embedded in the culture today, “Survivor” was revolutionary when it debuted May 31, 2000, quickly becoming a cultural phenomenon. The Season 1 finale averaged 51.7 million viewers, surpassing both the Academy Awards and Grammys that year. Time magazine featured Lewis-Dougherty on its late June 2000 cover, and “The Late Show With David Letterman” featured a “Survivor”-themed Top 10 list presented by the show’s 16 castaways.
From its exotic location to the now-iconic buffs, “Survivor” established a world all its own, complete with a unique lexicon of immunity challenges, tribal council and Probst’s signature catchphrase, “The tribe has spoken.” As the enduring face of the show, Probst is central to its legacy, earning four Emmys for his role as host.
But even Probst’s survival wasn’t guaranteed. About 15 years ago, the relentless travel and schedule left him so depleted that he briefly quit the show. A few months of rest, however, allowed him to reevaluate. “It really was, ‘I don’t know if I have anything left in my tank to bring to the game.’ That might be what partly influenced Mark to make me showrunner even faster,” Probst says. “I needed to be more of a storyteller on this show.”
The cast of “Survivor” Season 1, standing from left: Ramona Gray, Dirk Been, Gretchen Cordy, Richard Hatch, Sonja Christopher, Susan Hawk, Kelly Wiglesworth, Sean Kenniff, B.B. Andersen and Rudy Boesch. Seated from left: Gervase Peterson, Jenna Lewis, Joel Klug, Stacey Stillman, Greg Buis and Colleen Haskell.
(Monty Brinton/CBS)
He’s quick to note the show’s collaborative ethos, however. “The term ‘showrunner’ is pretty misleading at this point. We make this as a team,” Probst says. Under his stewardship, “Survivor” is more cinematic, reimagined through the lens of Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero’s Journey,” and family friendly. Probst also notes the necessity of continually evolving game design, creating unexpected twists and advantages to keep players on edge and never knowing whom to trust.
The pandemic brought changes as well. With production shut down amid a world in turmoil, Probst felt “Survivor” needed more levity. When filming resumed, due to the 14-day quarantine requirement, back-to-back seasons were shot and the format was shortened from 39 days to 26. The faster-paced “New Era” that began with Season 41 also coincided with CBS’s 2020 diversity mandate requiring at least 50% of the cast to be nonwhite, and Probst dropped his longtime catchphrase “Come on in, guys” in favor of more inclusive language.
By Season 45, in keeping with Probst’s narrative-driven vision, the previously hourlong episodes expanded to 90 minutes.
Television habits have also changed since viewers once dissected tribal council proceedings at the office the next morning. Streaming breathed new life into “Survivor,” with younger viewers discovering it during the pandemic, while its cross-generational appeal keeps it a broadcast powerhouse. The Season 50 premiere drew 9.1 million viewers across live broadcast and delayed streaming, and in the weeks leading up to the launch, viewers revisited older seasons, boosting streaming numbers ahead of the anniversary.
According to Mitch Graham, CBS executive vice president of alternative programming, “Survivor” ranks No. 1 in the coveted 18 to 49 demographic, and the Season 50 launch generated the biggest social media engagement in the franchise’s history.
Even as the reality TV landscape has grown crowded, Probst remains unfazed. “It’s a show like no other,” he says. “It’s adventure, survival, strategy, interpersonal relationships, social politics. … This multi-layered storytelling gives it durability because any given week you have no idea what you’re going to watch.”
Meanwhile, as Season 50 continues to unfold, no one knows who will be crowned “Sole Survivor” on May 20 in Los Angeles, the show’s first live finale since 2019. But rest assured, by then they’ll have revealed exactly who they are.
I am blindfolded and seated in a vintage armchair set in the center of a darkened, red-lit room with Gothic accents. An actor is performing nearby. I hear their voice, but cannot, of course, see them. I suddenly spring upward in my seat, alarmed at the touch of some sort of cloth — or perhaps a feather? — across my ankles.
I’ll never be entirely sure. For wearing the small veil across my eyes was a requirement to participate in “Poe: Pulse & Pendulum,” the debut offering from new troupe Theatre Obscura L.A. The company’s initial performance contains two one-act plays, modern interpretations of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Pit and the Pendulum” and “The Tell-Tale Heart.”
While the stories are familiar to many, Theatre Obscura increases the levels of discomfort. In this room, I am at times unsettled, at once tracking the movements of the actors while attempting to remain hyper aware of any sudden touch or scent. “The Pit and the Pendulum,” the first half of the program, translates especially well to this setting, its dark sense of demented confinement keeping my nerves on high alert.
Conjuring such a state of anxiety was the point.
“If you take the visual away, it’s going to make you feel uneasy,” says Paul Millet, who devised the concept.
There are jump scares. Downtown event space the Count’s Den has been outfitted with about 50 speakers for the Obscura shows, which run through April 12. Some are visible before one puts on the blindfold. Many, though, are hidden under seats or couches, as the audio will trail the actors around the room, or perhaps a sudden crash or door opening will have me jolting my attention elsewhere.
“The Pit and the Pendulum” is a story of torture, and as the narrator, here played by Melissa Lugo, desperately speaks of a blade swinging above, actors will fan us, timing their waves with each swoosh of the audio. I was prepared for that one, as a fellow theatergoer nearby let out a soft yelp when the unseen gestures first arrived above their head.
For many, sight is the most coveted sense. “If you take that away, you’re already naturally uncomfortable,” Millet says. “So we lean into that. We know you’re going to be uncomfortable. We know this is not the norm. But get on that ride with us. Be willing to be uncomfortable. Discomfort, I think, helps to heighten the experience, and ideally allow it to trigger the emotional reactions that the story does.”
“Poe: Pulse & Pendulum” is two one-act, audio-focused performances of Edgar Allan Poe stories.
(Joe Camareno / Theatre Obscura)
Still, touch is limited in the show. Occasionally a rattling of a chair, but little more. The fluttering I felt near my ankles was to mimic the sensation of a running critter. The troupe will ask for audience consent, and participants can opt out. While I went in wondering if “Poe: Pulse & Pendulum” would seek to recall more extreme haunt experiences with lengthy waivers, Millet wanted to keep it light — an audio play, primarily, with just a few in-the-flesh signals.
“We want people to feel unease, but I don’t want anyone taken out of the story because a boundary or line was crossed,” Millet says.
Scent, too, is used with restraint. There are moments when guests will get a whiff of a fragrance that pairs with the storyline. Millet considers the first run of Theatre Obscure to be an experiment in how much touch and scent audiences may want to endure. Smell, he says, is tricky, as the aroma may linger and become a distraction.
Millet has been honing the concept since 2023. Previously, he was part of the team behind Wicked Lit, which ended in 2019 after running for a number of years at unique locations such as Altadena’s Mountain View Mausoleum. Those immersive performances would feature casts and guests walking the venue. Theatre Obscura, however, is fully seated.
“Poe: Pulse & Pendulum” focuses on the fear that something may happen to us when stripped of sight.
(Joe Camareno / Theatre Obscura)
And while the stories of Poe lend themselves to the Halloween season, spooky events increasingly occur year round. Long-running production “The Willows” is set to wrap in early April, and “Monster Party,” a period piece that takes guests to a devilishly extravagant cocktail party, is re-launching in mid-April. Millet, a longtime theater producer who has a day job in television editing, is hoping to stand out by avoiding “the glut” of horror events that occur each September and October.
Theatre Obscura may face challenges, namely persuading potential guests that “The Pit and the Pendulum” is more than simply a live reading with audio effects.
“You can feel the movement of the characters around you,” Millet says. “You’re in the environment with the story as it unfolds. You can experience it on a more visceral level.”
Blindfolded, I felt Theatre Obscura was mostly playing off our fears rather than giving in to them, largely keying in on our anticipation that something may happen to us when stripped of sight. Lugo in much of “The Pit and the Pendulum” circles guests, who are seated sporadically around the room, allowing each of us to imagine how close or far we may be from the hole we are told is at its center. Each show deals with claustrophobia in some way, either of a space, or of a mind.
“The Tell-Tale Heart” is louder, more crowded. The sounds of crashing glass and creaky floorboards had my head working overtime to draw a floorplan, only to then have it distorted when actors would unexpectedly whisper in both of my ears to bring forth the protagonist’s nightmares. While I expected Theatre Obscura to be slightly more aggressive in its uses of touch and scent, it’s a show that asks us to live in our heads, and to sit in our own feeling of trepidation.
“I was intrigued,” Millet says, “with really trying to engage the audience’s imagination.”
