PORTLAND, Maine — Maine Democrats on Wednesday assailed U.S. Sen. Susan Collins over a news report that the FBI investigated how much she knew about illegal campaign contributions that sent one of her donors to prison.
The ProPublica report, published Tuesday, states that the FBI in 2024 planned to launch an investigation into Collins’ dealings with Navatek, a Hawaii defense contractor and donor to her campaign. The investigation, which focused on an alleged pay-to-play scheme, failed to commence after President Trump took office after winning the election, according to ProPublica.
The report arrived six weeks before an election in which Collins is seeking a sixth term against Democrat Troy Jackson. Democrats have targeted the seat, in a state that Trump lost in 2024, as the party tries to win control of the Senate, making it one of the most competitive races on the November ballot.
Collins on Tuesday called the entire story “absolutely outrageous” and said it is frustrating and unfair to have such claims made against her so close to the election. Her campaign manager, Steve Abbott, also said Wednesday that the allegation that “we charge people to have meetings” is categorically false and Collins accepting campaign cash for contracts “did not happen.”
Jackson called the allegation “corruption of the highest order.” He was not present Wednesday when a group of Maine Democrats held a news conference near Collins’ Portland office, calling the allegations a betrayal of trust.
“I cannot stress enough here today the seriousness of these allegations. Maine people deserve clear and real answers from Susan Collins right now,” Maine Democratic Party Executive Director Devon Murphy-Anderson said.
FBI says allegations were already investigated
The ProPublica report stated that the head of a Collins super PAC met with executives from defense contractor Navatek in 2019 and asked them for a $500,000 campaign donation. The company’s chief executive, Martin Kao, sent an initial $150,000 donation using a shell company, the report stated. ProPublica reported that it reviewed an internal company email from Kao in which the CEO later told Navatek executives that Collins committed to getting the company $32 million in Navy contracts.
Kao and two other Navatek executives were later indicted on charges of funneling illegal donations to Collins. Kao sought to reduce his prison sentence by revealing to the FBI the full scope of illegal contributions to Collins, ProPublica reported.
Collins said Kao is “a liar” whose story is untrustworthy.
“He has been twice convicted in separate federal court cases. He’s been convicted of money laundering. He’s been convicted of bank fraud. He has been convicted of false submissions to the FEC. He’s being convicted of a lot of crimes,” she said.
An FBI spokesperson said in a statement that the allegations “had already been investigated by the FBI years ago and ultimately found nothing implicating Senator Collins or Senator Collins’ campaign. Any suggestion otherwise is totally false.”
The ProPublica article also states that Trump’s return to the White House left the Justice Department unable to perform the investigation.
Corruption investigations have decreased in Trump’s second term
The number of FBI agents and Justice Department prosecutors specializing in corruption investigations plummeted in the first months of the Trump administration. The Justice Department, for instance, decimated its elite Public Integrity Section in early 2025 and the FBI disbanded a white-collar fraud and public corruption squad based out of its Washington field office.
The administration has also fired numerous law enforcement officials who participated in investigations into Trump, including over his efforts to undo the 2020 presidential election he lost and his retention of classified records at his Mar-a-Lago estate in Palm Beach, Fla.
An email seeking comment was sent to the Justice Department on Wednesday.
Collins said she first learned of the company through the University of Maine because of the research the Navy found to be valuable, which had to do with 3D printing for production.
She said the Justice Department has already reviewed the matter.
“I’m telling you this is completely false,” Collins said.
Senate Majority Leader John Thune dismissed the idea that Collins would be implicated in a pay-to-play scheme, calling the allegations “a political hit job.”
Whittle and Mascaro write for the Associated Press. Mascaro reported from Washington. AP writers Mary Clare Jalonick and Eric Tucker in Washington and Kimberlee Kruesi in Providence, R.I., contributed to this report.
In Philippe Caland’s semi-autobiographical 2003 film “Hollywood Buddha,” his mother, Huguette Caland, plays herself. Wearing her signature white smock, inscribed with a flurry of painted swirls, circles, letters and cross-stitches, the Lebanese artist makes precise gray-blue lines on a canvas spread across her dining room table as her son laments a fickle movie industry.
Filmed in her Venice home, the scene, her three children agree, was true to life. Caland worked constantly: on stretched canvas, on fabric folded in her lap, on a children’s menu, on the wall of her kitchen, or the sleeve of her smock. Whatever was at hand.
“Of course it could be frustrating,” said her daughter Brigitte, an elegant, soft-spoken scholar of Semitic languages who has managed Caland’s estate since her death in 2019.
Brigitte Caland, right, and Charley Caland — the daughter and granddaughter of the Lebanese-born painter, sculptor and fashion designer Huguette Caland — stand in Caland’s former L.A. home and studio.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Sitting in that very home, which Caland had built in 1997, Brigitte recalled the many times her mother invited her over only to continue working as they talked. “I’d go to leave, and she’d put the canvas away, beg me to come back, and as soon as I did, she’d start painting again.” Still, from early on, Brigitte understood the compulsion as evidence of her mother’s resolve. “She had this incredible drive to create.”
“Huguette Caland: A Life in a Few Lines,” opening Sunday at the Hammer Museum, traces that relentless drive across nearly 150 paintings, drawings, sculptures, garments and tapestries. Organized by the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía in Madrid in collaboration with the Deichtorhallen Hamburg, the show comes to Los Angeles as the largest Caland survey in the country to date. Spanning five decades and installed chronologically, it features work from the 26 years she spent immersed in Venice’s creative community even as her practice was largely ignored.
It was Caland’s generous hospitality and boisterous wit that made her custom château a gathering place for a vibrant Westside art circle. Ed Moses, who lived around the corner, visited several times a week; Larry Bell, Frank Gehry, Robert Wilhite and others joined her for long meals and even longer parties. Her work surrounded them, and her studio, the grandest space in the house, stood open just beyond the living room. Yet her guests remained uninterested. “No one,” Brigitte said, “would walk the 10 steps.”
Huguette Caland in Stone Doorway, France, 1970.
(Huguette Caland Estate)
Curator Hannah Feldman sees that tension as central to Caland’s California years. “Instead of supporting and bolstering her as a creative in their midst, she became their salon host,” she said. The lack of recognition, Feldman argues, reverberates through Caland’s heavily impastoed portraits of Moses and her enigmatic late abstractions such as the rectilinear paintings in the “Silent Letter Series.”
“To draw a line is a way to contain one’s emotion, one’s anger, one’s anguish,” wrote Caland of her challenging relations with fellow artists in “Sketchbook 2” (1990-91). “My lines tell the story of my life, of people encountered along the path, people I loved, and found and even lost.”
Caland is perhaps best known for her cheeky, erotic paintings of fulsome body parts and for a biography too often reduced to cliché: the libertine daughter of Lebanon’s first post-independence president who left her husband and children in Beirut to pursue an art career in a less repressed Paris.
Huguette Caland, “Self-Portrait in Smock,” 1992
(Huguette Caland Estate)
Feldman hopes the exhibition, which spans fine-line drawings of entangled lovers and radiant topographical tapestries, will complicate that familiar account. “There’s joy, and there’s sex,” she said, “but there’s also pathos, vulnerability. The search for autonomy is not an easy one; it comes with conflict, strife.”
Caland’s freedom was no doubt hard-won. She first picked up a brush as a married mother of three in her thirties, and only after her father’s death. In her first painting, alternately titled “Soleil rouge” and “Cancer” (Red Sun/Cancer) (1964), hazy concentric circles gather in a crimson orb at the center of the monochromatic plane. Simultaneously a tumor and a light source, the refulgent motif holds grief and release.
Soon after, Caland enrolled in art classes at the American University of Beirut, relinquished much of her constricting couture wardrobe, and adopted a uniform of loose, flowing kaftans, which she would later turn into works of art in their own right. Archival photographs show a glamorous Caland arriving at an event in a floor-length garment bearing painted breasts, a belly button and a triangle of curly pubic hair.
Huguette Caland, “Bribes de corps,” 1973
(Huguette Caland Estate)
Caland moved to France in 1970, leaving her children (then 15, 13 and 12) in Beirut with their father, a French-Lebanese lawyer named Paul Caland. In paintings from that decade, Caland’s imagery of bodies swell, split, meld and dissolve. In “Enleve ton doigt” (Remove Your Finger) (1971), lipstick-red lips receive a pale finger reaching out from a crush of fantastical profiles; two years later, in “Self-Portrait” (Bribes de corps), Caland dispersed a sensual body across a pale pink field interrupted at the lower edge by a slight, shadowed cleft — either buxom cleavage or buttocks.
The distance from her children produced another kind of line: text. Philippe recalled receiving illustrated letters almost every week, filled with drawings, doodles and notes of affection. Most of these were later destroyed when the family house was bombed during the Lebanese Civil War of 1975. “I always knew my mother loved me,” Philippe said. “The family was not torn apart. She took a break, and in the end made a home for us in Paris, where we all landed when the war was raging.”
After the death of her lover, Romanian sculptor George Apostu, whose rough-hewn wood sculptures still populate the house’s patio, Caland’s children encouraged yet another departure. Her eldest son, Pierre, a businessman and former Olympic swimmer, paid for a stay at a friend’s Venice bed-and-breakfast, all but forcing his grieving mother out of Paris and to sunny L.A. Her initial reluctance gave way to affection. The light, arid climate and mountains sloping into the sea reminded her of Lebanon. “She liked that California land sounded like Caland,” Brigitte said.
Huguette Caland works at her home and studio in Venice, date unknown.
(Huguette Caland Estate)
After making Venice her primary residence, Caland collaborated with architect Neil Kaufman on the design for her enclosed château. Its towering, mostly unbroken face and narrow swimming pool suggested a rampart and a moat, but behind the concrete exterior, Caland eliminated every door save the guest bathroom. Long vertical windows opened onto a courtyard shaded by a sprawling olive tree. Art crowded the steep stairwell; it accumulated on scattered plywood and Formica tables and unraveled across the kitchen in an intricate mural composed of tessellated marks that recall Byzantine mosaics and tatreez, a form of traditional Palestinian embroidery.
“There was no distinction for her,” Brigitte said, between the home and the studio, art and life. Caland once described her “very, very mixed media” as including “every single exchange, a look, a smile, a brief encounter.”
That original interior survives in “Hollywood Buddha” and archival photographs. Philippe now lives in the house with his family, and although the concrete exterior remains intact, the rooms and the courtyard have been remodeled around their own aesthetics and routines. Along with the technicolor mural, Caland’s singular sensibility persists in scattered drawings, a bouquet of her preferred 30-inch paintbrushes and a pair of stiff-backed pews. Her presence, too, is felt in the people who now inhabit the space, like her granddaughter Charley, 25, whose easy warmth recalls qualities long ascribed to the matriarch.
The former Venice home and studio of the Lebanese-born painter, sculptor and fashion designer Huguette Caland. The home is still occupied by Caland’s family and no longer looks how it did when she was alive, but her spirit lives on in small details.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
When the Hammer selected Caland for “Made in L.A. 2016,” the honor brought some measure of the local attention that had long eluded her. “If you had to pick one critical turning point for her career,” Pierre said, “it was the inclusion of her work in that show.” For the family, the coming survey fulfills one of her long-held ambitions.
“She told me, ‘Live your life day by day and plan it on a thousand years,’” Philippe said. Only later did he understand that the advice described her own life. “Today, her work is here,” he added. “She continues with it.”
Huguette Caland, “Le grand bleu,” 2012.
(Huguette Caland Estate)
The final painting in the exhibition, an oceanic large-format canvas titled “Le Grand Bleu” (The Great Blue) (2012), once hung high above the central hearth in the Venice house. Surrounded by undulating circles, spots and stripes, red-roofed Lebanese abodes and white-masted schooners traverse an unsettled horizon line. From the dining table below, where a young Charley often helped her grandmother fill blank planes with delicate dots, Caland could look up and see how far her line had taken her.
