Controversy erupted in downtown Seattle last Thursday when Harbor Properties threatened to remove Ross Palmer Beecher’s sculpture Radio Flyer from the On the Edge Sculpture Invitational it sponsored at Harbor Steps, one block south of the Pike Place Market and across the street from the Seattle Art Museum.

Radio Flyer stood apart from the serious-toned, monumental sculpture in the exhibition, all of which was either cut from stone (wood in the case of Steven Jensen) or forged from steel or bronze. Typical of Beecher’s folk art-inspired work, it is a makeshift U.S. flag constructed from wooden casements, crushed beer cans, bullets, jawbone, and grime-caked baking pans, all set atop a child’s red wagon.

Objections to this work of art centered upon the use of Busch beer cans, bent in such a way that the “c” was hidden under the fold and the name of the president repeated itself across the flag’s surface. Although it was unclear how they chose to interpret the work, Harbor deemed it “political” and sought a way to disavow any message it might contain. After seriously considering its removal from the outdoor exhibit, Harbor management chose instead to post a confusing disclaimer, hoping no doubt to protect itself from the wrath of Michael Medved-type ‘patriots’ in our midst.

There is a long tradition this country in this country of citizens being outraged by high-art improvisations upon the stars and stripes, going back at least as far as Jasper Johns. But there is an older, anything-goes tradition of American Folk Art where florid, enthusiastic appropriations of our nation’s symbol are manifest everywhere. American Folk Art frequently celebrates U.S. Presidents as well, and it has been the nature of this medium to generate homespun representations of the chief executive that, however reverential, might appear somewhat heretical to contemporary viewers. The Smithsonian has a collection of bizarre presidential folk art that includes, among other things, a coconut carved into the shape of Harry Truman’s head. It is not hard to contemplate how such an innocent foray into presidential portraiture might be looked upon today in this highly-polarized political climate. Certain parties would probably find a similar, crudely-rendered representation of George Bush inappropriate and disrespectful while others would regard it as humorous and satirical.

Ross Palmer Beecher operates at this rich, confusing intersection of American Modern and Folk Art traditions where she is able to explore history and consider the present. Radio Flyer — with its cheap, manufactured beer, Second Amendment freedoms, and grandmother’s cookie sheets — is both a ragged and energetic expression of honest, unpretentious “red state” values and a discourse on the president’s untreated alcoholism, lust for conflict, and assorted masculine anxieties. It is the most sophisticated political work I have seen during this most politicized of Presidential election years.

The mostly facile group of artists showing their work at CoCA’s current exhibit, 101 Way to Remove a President, could certainly learn a thing or two from Beecher. But the less said about this unfortunate but well-intentioned show, the better.