The federal art programs of the New Deal produced public art in quantities not seen before or since. Historians have studied many aspects of the New Deal's art programs, but few have considered the long-term history of works produced by them. New Deal art programs produced large numbers of public murals—so many that such murals are often thought of as the typical form of New Deal art. They thus provide readily available examples of the long-term experience of New Deal art. San Francisco has a particularly rich collection of these murals. Some of them have been well cared for over the past eight decades, but public officials have proved negligent stewards—and occasionally destructive stewards—of others. Some of San Francisco's murals were considered so controversial at the time they were created that they were modified or even destroyed. Others became controversial later, with calls for modification or destruction. Some of the latter were covered, some were vandalized, and some have deteriorated. Most of the damaged murals have been restored, sometimes more than once. This article looks at the city's New Deal murals at Coit Tower, the Mothers Building at the Zoo, the Beach Chalet, the University of California San Francisco, the Alemany Health Center, Treasure Island/City College, and Rincon Annex/Center, with special attention to the George Washington High School murals that have recently been highly controversial. Controversies over the murals at Coit Tower, Rincon Annex, and George Washington High School also reveal significant changes in the role of the city's political and civic leadership with regard to public art.

California once housed over a dozen monuments, memorials, and place-names honoring the Confederacy, far more than any other state beyond the South. The list included schools and trees named for Robert E. Lee, mountaintops and highways for Jefferson Davis, and large memorials to Confederate soldiers in Hollywood and Orange County. Many of the monuments have been removed or renamed in the recent national reckoning with Confederate iconography. But for much of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first, they stood as totems to the “Lost Cause” in the American West. Despite a vast literature on the origins, evolution, and enduring influence of the Lost Cause myth, little is known about how this ideology impacted the political culture and physical space of the American West. This article explores the commemorative landscape of California to explain why a free state, far beyond the major military theaters of the Civil War, gave rise to such a vibrant Confederate culture in the twentieth century. California chapters of the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC) carried out much of this commemorative work. They emerged in California shortly after the organization's founding in Tennessee in 1894 and, over the course of a century, emblazoned the Western map with salutes to a slaveholding rebellion. In the process, the UDC and other Confederate organizations triggered a continental struggle over Civil War memory that continues to this day.

This essay describes a personal encounter with the Stolperstein or “stumbling stone” project, which brought together the descendants of a Jewish family that resided in Wurzen, Germany, during the Nazi era. The individual German citizens who are involved in the project acknowledge the atrocities committed by their country and participate in the project to memorialize the victims. I contrast their response with current American controversies over Confederate statues and buildings named for slaveholders. I argue that the United States might benefit from a Stolperstein -like project that encourages us to recognize the brutal aspects of our history, as it would be a positive step toward national reconciliation.

Developing a public-facing website expanded the scope of my book project about pioneer monuments by opening new research questions. As public attention turned toward controversial monuments, I reimagined the role of my website. No longer just a companion to a scholarly monograph, it became a central piece of a new, multifaceted public engagement project. I now seek to inform ongoing debates about controversial statues, and to spark conversations in locations where similar monuments have thus far been less controversial.

In 1932, the Mexican artist David Alfaro Siqueiros was commissioned to paint an idealized tropical scene on a second-story exterior wall on Olvera Street, in the heart of downtown Los Angeles. Siqueiros instead created América Tropical , a monumental mural depicting an overgrown jungle with a crucified Indian peasant surmounted by an American eagle, at which revolutionary soldiers aim their rifles. This imagery was immediately controversial; within the decade the entire mural was whitewashed. For the next twenty years, it remained under layers of white paint, neglected and all but forgotten. In 1988, the Getty Conservation Institute began a collaboration with the City of Los Angeles to conserve América Tropical . This led to a study of the environment around the mural and the design of a protective shelter and viewing platform for the public. Eighty years after its creation, América Tropical was re-unveiled to the public. Today, visitors to El Pueblo de Los Angeles Historical Monument can learn more about the history, controversy, and modern techniques in mural conservation at the America Tropical Interpretive Center, located on historic Olvera Street.