The global pop star’s company, TAS Rights Management, filed three new trademark applications last week, per the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office. Two of the applications relate to soundbites of her voice, saying the phrases “Hey, it’s Taylor Swift” and “Hey, it’s Taylor.” The other is a well-known image of Swift, often representative of her recent Eras tour, featuring the 36-year-old onstage, holding her pink guitar and dressed in a shimmering bodysuit.
In January, the “Interstellar” actor secured eight trademarks for his likeness, including images of him smiling and the iconic recording of him saying, “Alright, alright, alright,” from the 1993 movie “Dazed and Confused.”
“My team and I want to know that when my voice or likeness is ever used, it’s because I approved and signed off on it,” the actor told the Wall Street Journal in January. “We want to create a clear perimeter around ownership with consent and attribution the norm in an AI world.”
Registering a trademark for a celebrity’s speaking voice to defend against the prospect of AI-voice generation is a novel legal approach that has not yet been tested in court. Representatives for Swift did not respond to a request for comment on the intent of the recently filed trademarks. But Josh Gerben, one of the first attorneys to report Swift’s latest legal moves, said this is one of the growing gaps in intellectual property protection that AI can exploit.
Before AI infiltrated the internet, musicians, like Swift, would typically rely on copyright law to help prevent the unauthorized use and distribution of their music, while right to publicity laws would protect them from unlawful commercial use of their likeness. But with AI, users can manipulate people’s voices and images to sing or say practically anything.
So if McConaughey has a trademark on his voice saying a phrase, then theoretically any AI-generated voice that sounds similar to it could be considered a violation of that trademark, according to Gerben.
“If they have this trademark protection in place, then the [AI] platforms can’t use that same voice to create new content,” Gerben said. “Every celebrity would essentially have to go and do the same thing, but it’s trying to cut this off at the source as much as possible.”
Variety first reported news of Swift’s trademark filing.
As one of the most popular musicians, Swift has dealt with her share of unauthorized AI-generated content. She was previously one of the many female celebrities whose likeness was among several of Meta’s AI chatbot virtual celebrities. The illicit chatbots allegedly produced pornographic images. Before the 2024 presidential election, Donald Trump also shared AI-generated images of Swift falsely suggesting that she had endorsed him, including one of her dressed as Uncle Sam with the words, “Taylor wants you to vote for Donald Trump.”
Because Swift is such a recognizable public figure, Luke Arrigoni, the chief executive of Loti AI, a tech company that focuses on likeness protection, said trademark filings like these aren’t merely defensive but rather a setup for a long-term protective infrastructure.
“By locking down these trademarks now, she’s ensuring that if a brand wants to use a ‘Swift-like’ AI voice in 2027, they’ll have to go through her authorized gates or face federal trademark infringement,” Arrigoni said in a statement. “She’s essentially putting a price tag on her digital self, and that’s exactly where the entire talent industry needs to go to survive.”
After more than two and a half years of research, planning and construction, Dataland, the world’s first museum of AI arts, will open June 20.
Co-founded by new media artists Refik Anadol and Efsun Erkılıç, the museum anchors the $1-billion Frank Gehry-designed Grand LA complex across the street from Walt Disney Concert Hall in downtown Los Angeles. Its first exhibition, “Machine Dreams: Rainforest,” created by Refik Anadol Studio, was inspired by a trip to the Amazon and uses vast data sets to immerse visitors in a machine-generated sensory experience of the natural world.
The architecture of the space, which Anadol calls “a living museum,” is used to reflect distant rainforest ecosystems, including changing temperature, light, smell and visuals. Anadol refers to these large-scale, shimmering tableaus as “digital sculptures.”
“This is such an important technology, and represents such an important transformation of humanity,” Anadol said in an interview. “And we found it so meaningful and purposeful to be sure that there is a place to talk about it, to create with it.”
The 35,000-square-foot privately funded museum devotes 25,000 square feet to public space, with the remaining 10,000 square feet holding the in-house technology that makes the space run. Dataland contains five immersive galleries and a 30-foot ceiling. An escalator by the entrance will transport guests to the experiences below. The museum declined to say how much Dataland, designed by architecture firm Gensler, cost to build.
An isometric architectural rendering of Dataland. The 25,000-square-foot AI arts museum also contains an additional 10,000 square feet of non-public space that holds its operational technology.
(Refik Anadol Studio for Dataland)
Dataland will collect and preserve artificial intelligence art and is powered by an open-access AI model created by Anadol’s studio called the Large Nature Model. The model, which does not source without permission, culls mountains of data about the natural world from partners including the Smithsonian, London’s Natural History Museum and the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. This data, including up to half a billion images of nature, will form the basis for the creation of a variety of AI artworks, including “Machine Dreams.”
“AI art is a part of digital art, meaning a lineage that uses software, data and computers to create a form of art,” Anadol explained. “I know that many artists don’t want to disclose their technologies, but for me, AI means possibilities. And possibilities come with responsibilities. We have to disclose exactly where our data comes from.”
Sustainability is another responsibility that Anadol takes seriously. For more than a decade, Anadol has devoted much thought to the massive carbon footprint associated with AI models. The Large Nature Model is hosted on Google Cloud servers in Oregon that use 87% carbon-free, renewable energy. Anadol says the energy used to support an individual visit to the museum is equivalent to what it takes to charge a single smartphone.
Anadol believes AI can form a powerful bridge to nature — serving as a means to access and preserve it — and that the swiftly evolving technology can be harnessed to illuminate essential truths about humanity’s relationship to an interconnected planet. During a time of great anxiety about the power of AI to disrupt lives and livelihoods, Anadol maintains it can be a revolutionary tool in service of a never-before-seen form of art.
“The works generate an emergent, living reality, a machine’s dream shaped by continuous streams of environmental and biological data. Within this evolving system, moments of recognition and interpretation emerge across different forms of knowledge,” a news release about the museum explains. “At the same time, the exhibition registers loss as part of this expanded field of perception, most notably in the Infinity Room, where visitors encounter the 1987 recording of the last known Kauaʻi ʻŌʻō, a now-extinct bird whose unanswered call becomes part of the work.”
“It’s very exciting to say that AI art is not image only,” Anadol said. “It’s a very multisensory, multimedium experience — meaning sound, image, video, text, smell, taste and touch. They are all together in conversation.”
It’s not only easy to get lost in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s new David Geffen Galleries, it’s inevitable, intentional — and one of the best things about the place.
The museum has deconstructed the traditional, boxy narrative of art history and rendered the story itself a matter of curves and continuities. Art in the collection is freed from its departmental silos and put into conversation across genre lines, place and time.
The museum has physically invalidated the binaries of center and periphery, major and minor arts. In a startling and largely gratifying way, LACMA has done what the poet Audre Lorde, alluding to a different but not unrelated aspect of patriarchal dominance, deemed impossible: used the master’s tools to dismantle the master’s house.
The change goes far beyond a remodel. It’s a reinvention, a recalibration, a revisionist fever dream.
The vision conceived by museum director and Chief Executive Michael Govan and architect Peter Zumthor is not perfect, and brings with it a modest set of frustrations, but as a whole, the installation registers as ravishing and bracingly fresh. It thrusts us midstream into the ageless, ceaseless flow of makers worldwide reckoning with life, earth and being.
It prompts us, as we bob about, to reflect on our own proclivities and preconceptions, our patterns of reception and perception.
It compels us to recognize that what matters is not just what we see in the museum but how we see, what pulls us close and why, what private histories we bring to the occasion, what expectations, what tools.
Over two visits to the new building, getting my physical bearings mattered less and less as I surrendered to the generative sensations of not knowing. The museum has produced a dense guidebook to the new galleries, whose title, “Wander,” doubles as invitation and imperative. Even at 430 pages, the book is only minimally useful as an orientation device. For help with that internal navigation, Rebecca Solnit’s moving 2005 book, “A Field Guide to Getting Lost,” proved a better compass.
LACMA’s guidebook to the David Geffen Galleries, called “Wander,” doubles as invitation and imperative.
(Museum Associates / LACMA)
Solnit, citing the cultural critic Walter Benjamin, writes, “to be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery.” She goes on to recall how roaming freely as a child was key to developing self-reliance, which feels apt to the LACMA strategy. We are put in charge of making our own way, through tapestries and tea sets, past ancient jug and contemporary sphinx, without heavy-handed authoritative direction.
The history of art reads here as one long, free verse poem-in-progress, gorgeous and absorbing. Even so, many of the most memorable moments come in the form of cogent micro-essays, smartly curated ensembles of work bearing a legible, lucid premise. Some of these are contained within four (rectilinear) walls; some occupy less demarcated spaces. “Tonal Variations: Photography and Music,” for instance, gathers images by Paul Caponigro, William Eggleston, Lisette Model and others. These artists were also serious pianists, attuned, no matter which instrument they were using, to the qualities of rhythm, pattern and progression.
Lisette Model, “Window at 5th Avenue,” 1940, Los Angeles County Museum of Art
(Museum Associates / LACMA)
In a section headed “The Global Appeal of Blue-and-White Ceramics,” a long display case houses a timeline articulated sculpturally. The sequence advances from a 9th century bowl made in Iraq to a 13th century vessel from China, a 14th century example from Thailand, another from 15th century Syria, up to work by a 20th century German artist who transformed a functional vessel into personal adornment by cutting a string of beads out of the planar surface of the bowl.
Dish, Turkey, Iznik, c. 1530-35, Los Angeles County Museum of Art
(Museum Associates / LACMA)
On the wall facing this display is a huge vitrine containing an 18th century Talavera jar from Mexico, paired with a 2025/26 color photograph by Brooklyn-based Stephanie H. Shih. In the still-life composition, a cheeky visual lesson on the collision and convergence of cultures, the jar holds flowers, cactus and edible Mexican treats influenced by Chinese and Filipino flavors.
Top, Stephanie H. Shih, 梅國 “(Still life with chamoy and Dirty T Tamarindo),” (2025- 26); bottom, Jar (c. 1700-50)
(Museum Associates / LACMA)
Shih is one of a handful of artists commissioned to create new work using the museum’s collection as muse. L.A.-based Lauren Halsey is another. Her formidable, untitled 2026 sphinx regally commands its space among ancient Egyptian and Roman sculpture, a marvel of the cross-temporal and cross-spatial, spiked with specific references to Black self-determination.
Setting recent works among older ones is an effective element of LACMA’s overall plan to shed outworn hierarchies. It recasts every piece of art by every artist throughout the single-story space as equally relevant. The seamless integration of old and new feels stealthy, and a touch subversive, a doubling-down on the museum’s approach to time as nonlinear, sinuous and delightfully slippery.
Lauren Halsey’s untitled 2026 sphinx.
(Museum Associates / LACMA)
That said, a few words readily available would help connect the dots without undermining the provocation. Text — where and how it appears, or doesn’t — is my only major complaint about the installation of the new galleries.
Text panels announce, in one or two paragraphs, the themes of each given section: “Images of the Divine in South Asia”; “The Evolution of Abstract Painting in Modern Korea”; “Textile Conversations: Africa and Black America.” Individual object labels are kept minimal, containing only basic identification about each work, no commentary. When asked about this decision during my first walkthrough, Govan replied that more time reading means less time looking — “and we have the internet.” Every thematic text panel has a QR code that links to the Bloomberg Connects app, an aggregate guide to museums and other cultural sites that offers selected, augmented entries.
Determining how much didactic information is insightful and sufficient, and how much constitutes excessive artsplaining, is a delicate, ongoing challenge for museums. Where LACMA landed on this contested plain strikes me as unfortunate and counterproductive.
A few lines of explanation or context on a wall label can add perspective for even the most informed visitor, and provides crucial support to those with less foundational exposure and access to art.
You can take or leave text on a wall without breaking your stride, but text accessed via QR code is another matter. (Never mind that connectivity is spotty inside a sprawling concrete shell, and several times when I tried to get information from the app, I couldn’t.) Encouraging us to shift our gaze from the wall to our devices — to assume that accursed downward tilt of the neck when splendors abound before our eyes — is simply detrimental. It breaks the spell of being fruitfully lost in the present, and retethers us to the digital distractions that dominate our days.
Wall text beside Francis Bacon’s “Three Studies of Lucian Freud” (1969), at Los Angeles County Museum of Art.
(Museum Associates / LACMA)
Shouldn’t the imaginative minds that created this space, this opportunity to revel in direct sensual experience, want us to keep our attention where our bodies are? Why this fallback to current convention, when the rest of the experience is about radical reinvention? This feels like a missed opportunity. I’m hoping a more experimental, exploratory approach to providing information, context and interpretation, in keeping with the rest of the enterprise, might yet come.
Does the new structure serve the art? Mostly, very well.
The lighting is varied, treated as another texture in the space, palpable and rich. There’s a generous amount of natural sunlight, but some spots are noticeably dim. Some gallery walls are glazed in deep hues (reddish and eggplant), and the intensity of the color is jarring at first. But neutral, white-box viewing spaces (with even, predictable lighting) can be found elsewhere on LACMA’s campus and pretty much anywhere art is shown. Here, the very irregularity of the interior environment, including the concrete surfaces — richer and more textured than I expected — heightened my alertness. And keener senses tend to make for more consequential experiences.
In deciding how to organize roughly 2,000 works of art across 110,000 square feet of exhibition space, LACMA devised a conceptual schema that isn’t apparent in the galleries themselves. The “Wander” guide maps out the division of the space into four regions correlating to bodies of water: the Indian, Atlantic and Pacific oceans, and the Mediterranean Sea. While the zones and their boundaries aren’t indicated by obvious signage, and I caught one laughable categorization (Ansel Adams’ photographs of the Pacific shoreline landing in the Atlantic section), this schema at least doesn’t get in the way.
And what does work about the propositional structure is its comprehensive realignment. It moves to retire art historical frameworks of the past, dependent on borders between places and times.
Throughout this installation, we are repeatedly reminded of the impact of trade and migration, the fluid movement of resources and belief systems. We’re reminded of porousness and simultaneity, and that all art histories are, in the end, propositional structures.
Here’s a new one, the Geffen Galleries say. Try it out. You might get lost. Indeed, you will get lost. And what wonders await you in the uncertainty and mystery.
Amid a standoff with the pope and criticism for an AI image of himself as Jesus, US President Donald Trump has read a Bible passage about punishment and national repentance as part of a Republican-led marathon event.
For the second time in two weeks, President Trump used that phrase in a post about the Israel-U.S. war against Iran.
Crowing about the alleged destruction of Iran’s planes, ships and bases in a Truth Social post Saturday, he emphasized his greatest victory in the monthlong campaign: “Most importantly, their longtime ‘Leaders’ are no longer with us, praise be to Allah!”
Making sense of anything Trump says in the heat of posting is a fool’s errand, but it’s also entirely necessary. Sane wash his words we must, because no matter how unhinged or infantile, the world’s safety, fortunes and future are inextricably tied to America’s next move, and therefore to his next move.
So what is Trump trying to communicate, or provoke, by using the Arabic word for God, as Muslims do? Let’s translate.
The first and most likely explanation: “Praise be to Allah” was meant to disparage his adversaries in the Islamic Republic of Iran. They are Muslim, they refer to God as “Allah,” therefore, he will turn their phrasing against them. Word bombs to accompany the deadly ones falling in Iran and Lebanon.
All leaders deploy tough talk in times of war, but Trump’s posts read more like the feverish ramblings of mad Col. Kurtz (Marlon Brando) in “Apocalypse Now” — “You’re an errand boy sent by grocery clerks to collect a bill” — than Winston Churchill’s galvanizing call to arms against the Nazis, “We shall fight on the beaches…”
Unlike the fictional Kurtz or the real Churchill, Trump has no military experience. He avoided the Vietnam War draft with four student deferments and one medical deferment for bone spurs. An area where he is experienced? Baiting foes. Antagonizing enemies, genuine or imagined, is a Trump specialty, be it from the Oval Office, on the campaign trail, or in the before times, as a reality TV personality.
Painting Muslims as the Other is nothing new for Trump, (unless they come bearing luxury airliners as gifts — then they’re friends). The same goes for others in his party. Since the U.S. and Israel attacked Iran on Feb. 28, Rep. Andy Ogles (R-Tenn.) posted that Muslims don’t belong in American society. Rep. Randy Fine (R-Fla.) wrote, “We need more Islamophobia, not less. Fear of Islam is rational.” And Sen. Tommy Tuberville (R-Ala.) reposted an image of the Twin Towers burning side by side with an image of New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, with his own caption: “The enemy is inside the gates.”
The president’s first usage of “Praise be to Allah” as a middle finger to Iran landed on a Christian holy day, Easter Sunday. He posted a demand that Iran open the Strait of Hormuz: “Open the F— Strait, you crazy b—, or you’ll be living in Hell – JUST WATCH! Praise be to Allah.” Hardly messaging that brings to mind Easter egg hunts on the White House lawn.
If the idea was to humiliate Iran into submission, it’s not working. Iran doesn’t appear to be backing down, even after Trump’s week-ago threat that a “whole civilization will die tonight” if it failed to meet his deadline to reopen the strait. The critical global shipping route is still closed. Trump didn’t appear all that interested in the art of the deal, either, even as Vice President JD Vance tried and failed to negotiate with Iranian leaders in Pakistan on Saturday. The president told reporters that he didn’t “care” what happens with Iran negotiations because “regardless what happens, we win.” He also said, “Whether we make a deal or not makes no difference to me.” He was seen later in Miami at an Ultimate Fighting Championship cage match with Secretary of State Marco Rubio.
Making the Allah references all the stranger were Trump’s other religious-themed posts this past weekend. One was a lengthy screed against Pope Leo XIV, whom Trump described as too liberal and “weak on crime.” It’s worth noting that more than half of American Catholics voted for Trump in the last election, and that his vice president is Catholic, as is the secretary of State and the first lady.
The other was a stand-alone, AI-generated image of himself as a Christ-like figure. It showed the 79-year-old clad in a white robe and papal-red cape, a divine light emanating from the palm of one hand while the other hand was placed on an ailing man. The post was deleted Monday morning after a sizable backlash.
“I did post it, and I thought it was me as a doctor, and had to do with Red Cross, as a Red Cross worker there, which we support,” Trump said, responding to a reporter Monday during a presser at the White House as DoorDash delivered an order from McDonald’s to promote the president’s “no tax on tips” policy.
There was no mention of Allah during that particular event.
The general consensus is that President Trump’s social media post of himself dressed in robes, after a busy weekend in which he blasted Pope Leo and attended a prizefight while an Iran peace plan fell apart, was an attempt to cast himself as a Jesus-like figure.
But Trump says we have it wrong.
“It’s supposed to be me as a doctor, making people better,” he said.
As a graduate of St. Peter Martyr grade school in the San Francisco East Bay area, and as someone who has seen a lot of doctors for various ailments, I feel uniquely qualified to weigh in.
In Catholic school, holy cards are a big deal. You’ve seen a couple hundred of them by the time you hit second or third grade, so you become familiar with the muted ethereal glow, the heavenly gaze and the look of piety. A standard feature is the halo, a clearly defined sphere that sits like a buttered bonnet on the head of the saint.
Let the record show that in his post on his very own Truth Social, which is not always truthful, Trump does not have a halo.
So in total fairness, it’s possible the president was not lying when he said he was supposed to be a doctor.
On the other hand, having seen a good number of cardiologists and surgeons and orthopedic specialists, I don’t recall any doctors who wore flowing robes while bathed in heavenly light, with a flock of eagles coming out of their ears and a team of Navy SEALs busting through the hospital ceiling.
And then there’s the fireball emanating from Trump’s right hand. All of which begs the question: If Trump thinks this is what a doctor looks like, what ailment is he being treated for, and shouldn’t the public be advised?
There’s also the question of creation — not of human life, but of the very existence of a social media post like this from the president of the United States in wartime. It was described as an AI-generated image, but who was at the computer?
Did the president sit down at the end of a long day and churn out an image of himself playing doctor, if not Jesus Christ? Or does he have a team of staffers who do this sort of thing, and if so, how could Elon Musk have missed them when he said the government was bloated and set out to fire half the federal workforce?
You’d at least hope the president would have the courage of his convictions. But as criticism of his post mounted, Trump deleted it Monday morning.
I think he should have stuck with the story — he was portraying himself a doctor because he’s a healer. The next day, he could have been in a New York Jets uniform and told us he’s a quarterback. Then he could have released an image of himself in the Artemis space capsule and told us he’s an astronaut, and he’s thinking of building a string of Trump hotels on the moon. Ask yourself this: Would anyone have been surprised?
A guy who only knows how to go for broke, and always doubles down when things go wrong, has to stick to his guns or the whole shtick unravels. I’d have respected Trump more if he had traipsed around the White House with a stethoscope for a week or two, or maybe performed brain surgery on Pete Hegseth, just to see what’s going on in there.
What’s going on in Trump’s head, if I might volunteer a bit of armchair psychoanalysis, is that failure triggers a sense of grandeur rather than humility.
Things are not going well at the moment, so he’s lashing out. The price of things was supposed to come down on Day One, but thanks to his upheaval of the world economy, prices went up, and now they’re soaring because he helped start a war that made no sense.
A war that has been criticized by Pope Leo, who has pointed out that while the Trump administration has ascribed a religious imperative to the assault on Iran, and Trump promised to blow the country all the way back to the “Stone Ages,” Jesus would probably not be on board.
Trump, who said last year that he wants to “try and get to heaven, if possible,” now realizes he’s not going to get an endorsement from the pontiff.
And so the man who once issued a national call to prayer, said the Bible was his favorite book, joked after the death of Pope Francis that he wanted to be the next pontiff, and has now issued his own holy card, has attacked Pope Leo for being too liberal as well as “weak on crime and terrible for foreign policy.” He has, in effect, anointed himself as holier than the pope himself.
Even staunch supporters of Trump have worked themselves into a lather over this. They’re lashing out at Trump, as if his criticism of the pope and depiction of himself as Jesus Christ are shocking.
My fellow Americans, certain words have been rendered meaningless in describing the current state of affairs. Among them are shocking, surreal, unbelievable, unprecedented and unexpected.
If indeed Trump thinks he’s Jesus, let his penance begin with 100 Our Fathers, 500 Hail Marys and 1,000 Acts of Contrition.
WASHINGTON — A federal arts commission on Thursday approved the final design for a 24-karat gold commemorative coin bearing President Trump’s image to help celebrate America’s 250th birthday on July 4.
The vote by the U.S. Commission of Fine Arts, whose members are supporters of the Republican president and were appointed by him earlier this year, was without objection. It clears the way for the U.S. Mint to begin production on the coin, whose size and denomination are still under discussion.
“As we approach our 250th birthday, we are thrilled to prepare coins that represent the enduring spirit of our country and democracy, and there is no profile more emblematic for the front of such coins than that of our serving President, Donald J. Trump,” U.S. Treasurer Brandon Beach said in a statement.
The unprecedented move marks yet another example of Trump and his allies circumventing conventional past presidential practices — and even the law — to get what he wants. It’s the latest instance of Trump putting his name and likeness in the historical archive, following his renaming of the U.S. Institute of Peace, the Kennedy Center performing arts venue and a new class of battleships, among other tributes.
Federal law says no living president can appear on U.S. currency. But Megan Sullivan, the acting chief of the Office of Design Management at the Mint, said the Treasury secretary has authority to authorize the minting and issuance of new 24-karat gold coins, which Scott Bessent has used to get around that prohibition and put Trump on a coin.
She presented the coin’s final design at the commission’s March meeting on Thursday and said Trump had approved it.
“It is my understanding that the secretary of the Treasury presented this design, as well as others, to the president and these were his selection,” Sullivan said.
The White House and the Mint did not immediately respond to electronic and telephone requests for comment.
The front of the coin features an image of Trump in a suit and tie and with a stern look on his face. His fists rest on top of what is supposed to be a desk as he leans forward. Lettering on the top half of the coin spells “LIBERTY” in a slight arc. Directly underneath that are the dates 1776-2026. The words “IN GOD WE TRUST” are at the bottom, with seven stars on one side of the coin and six stars on the other side.
The reverse side depicts a bald eagle midflight with “UNITED STATES OF AMERICA” on the right side and “E PLURIBUS UNUM” on the left side.
“I know it’s a very strong and a very tough image of him, and I think it’s fitting to have a current sitting president who’s presiding over the country over the 250th year on a commemorative coin for said year,” said Commissioner Chamberlain Harris, a top White House aide to Trump.
The coin will be part of a “very limited production run,” Sullivan said, but the number has not been determined. The size and denomination of the coin also have not yet been decided, she said. Some commissioners noted Trump’s fondness for big things as they advocated for the largest size coin.
The Mint, which is part of the Treasury Department, has looked at a size for the Trump coin that is larger than its 1-ounce gold coin, which is about 1.3 inches in diameter, Sullivan said.
Its largest coin is 3 inches, “so we’re looking somewhere in there,” she said.
“I think the president likes big things,” said Commissioner James McCrery II, who was the architect on Trump’s design proposal for a 90,000-square-foot ballroom addition to the White House. The fine arts commission approved that proposal at its February meeting.
Harris told McCrery she agreed with him. She works in the White House as a special assistant to the president and deputy director of the Oval Office.
“I think the larger the better. The largest of that circulation, I think, would be his preference,” Harris said, speaking of Trump.
