Well…when we’re talking about art, anything goes. For some moments, I thought that the red splotches were part of the painting - some colored leaves stuck on the presidents’ clothes as they strolled through some foliage in the park. This reminds us that our presidents were eco-minded; nothing thrilled them more than a rendezvous with nature.
The red color also serves to warm a painting otherwise dominated by greens and blues, besides echoing the red coat of Mama Ayesha. This could be a psychological cue: no matter who you are, even if you’re POTUS, there’s always a bit of mama in you.
A skeptic might insist, however, that if Vallen’s “vandal” (curious: both words start with a “V”) was serious, then he/she, for the sake of harmony - it’s after all a realist painting - should’ve painted the splotches carefully, and not leaving it to the viewer to guess whether they’re leaves or, umm, splotches. Here, however, we have to invoke what might be termed as artistic license: what’s more dramatic than to give a painting by, say, Holman Hunt, the vigor of a Pollock? Some people might call the splotches “a pot of paint in the public’s face (or crotch),” but the vandal might reply that it took the knowledge of a lifetime to be able to paint like that. Americans are very good at that kind of retorts.
It’s a sunny evening and I’ve nothing else to do …