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Art and war: Israeli and Palestinian artists reflect on Oct. 7 and the crisis in Gaza

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Art and war: Israeli and Palestinian artists reflect on Oct. 7 and the crisis in Gaza

Rana Samara, a Palestinian artist from Ramallah in the Israeli-occupied West Bank.

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Rana Samara, a Palestinian artist from Ramallah in the Israeli-occupied West Bank.

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In Israel’s cultural capital of Tel Aviv, a vibrant artistic community leaves its colorful mark with murals and other art painted throughout the narrow streets of the city’s ancient Jaffa neighborhood and on the walls of businesses within the financial-centered downtown.

Within this same space is a Palestinian community that has long turned to art as a form of resistance, using it to bring light to the struggles of Palestinians in Tel Aviv, the Israeli-occupied West Bank and Gaza.

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Since Oct. 7, much of this work has turned heartbroken, mournful, angry and fearful, as members of these artistic communities confront heavy, unimaginable emotions that are bleeding into their craft.

More than 1,200 people in Israel were killed on that day and hundreds of others were kidnapped by Hamas. In response, Israel launched a now months-old war in Gaza that has killed more than 22,000 Palestinians and displaced nearly two million others.

Artists are processing the crisis in a myriad of ways: through paintings of the horrors of war, through anguished song and in dance. The work has been shared in places like Tel Aviv’s Hostages Square, where protesters regularly gather to demand the release of Israeli captives being held by Hamas, and on social media, where a Palestinian diaspora say they can more safely post their work than those still living under the Israeli government.

“I think that if art can function as something, not only for the viewer, but for myself, it’s to create a space for reflection and reassessing and trying to dissect and process and understand,” said Addam Yekutieli, an Israeli artist based in Tel Aviv.

NPR spoke to Yekutieli and five other Israeli and Palestinian artists on how the war between Israel and Hamas has affected their lives and their work.

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Each artist took time to reflect on Oct. 7 and its aftermath, sharing stories of fear, anger, sadness and pain.

Rana Samara

“In times of stress, usually people go for black, people go for dark colors,” said Rana Samara, a Palestinian artist from Ramallah in the Israeli-occupied West Bank. “I found that now, my stress has come out with very, very, very bright colors.”

Samara’s work frequently uses bright paint to explore topics like sexuality, gender roles and other issues tied to Palestinian life. When war broke out in Gaza, she decided to turn to the images she was seeing on TV and social media and weave it into her work.

Samara is part of a group of Palestinian artists that joined with the Zawyeh Gallery in Ramallah to create work to help raise money for humanitarian aid in Gaza.

“What caught my mind and heart in what I was watching about this war was the issue of children. And so I looked and I concentrated on what each child was carrying” as they evacuated their homes in Gaza, she said.

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For one piece, Samara decided to create a type of poster of these different scenes of children fleeing their homes using bright reds and pinks. Using the image of the children’s piggy bank, for example, she incorporated the war.

“My idea was a piggy bank and inside a tank,” she said. At first look, it’s an attractive, colorful, bright picture, “but when you get close to it, it’s the bleak image. It’s the tank.”

Michal Worke—an Israeli artist with Ethiopian roots, shares her studio space and artwork.

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Michal Worke—an Israeli artist with Ethiopian roots, shares her studio space and artwork.

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Michal Worke

Before Oct. 7, many of Michal Worke’s paintings had rich purples and vibrant patterns that reflected her travels in Ethiopia and South Africa.

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But now, the colors in her latest works are muted with blues and grays.

“It started with the shock of the kidnappings, and the murders and disasters,” she said of the attack by Hamas militants.

Worke, who is a Jewish Israeli of Ethiopian descent, found that the footage on social media and on the news of the attack wove itself into her psyche.

“I think I responded like everyone to the trauma that we saw. It was really hard for me. I started having dreams that they are coming for me, and they start shooting and I didn’t know where to hide or where to go,” she said.

In the early days after the attack, Worke said she was avoiding the studio and turning more inward to collect her thoughts and take stock of her emotions.

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Michal Worke—an Israeli artist with Ethiopian roots, shares her studio space and artwork.

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Michal Worke—an Israeli artist with Ethiopian roots, shares her studio space and artwork.

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Worke is a painter that has long advocated for the release of Avera Mengistu, a fellow Israeli of Ethiopian descent that has been in Hamas custody for nine years. She regularly paints Mengistu and his family, sharing her work online.

Since Oct. 7, she’s seen the abundance of artwork created in honor of the fallen and the more than 240 hostages taken by Hamas that day, of which more than 100 remain in captivity.

“But not for Avera. He isn’t there, his face isn’t anywhere,” she said.

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So, in response she’s worked to continue to amplify Mengistu’s story so that he isn’t forgotten.

Worke has also begun painting other things about the war and the interconnectedness she is finding between the war and her Ethiopian community.

“Many Ethiopian soldiers have died,” she said. “Ninety percent of Ethiopians [in Israel] go to combat units. It’s the highest percentage of any community. So many have died.”

She’s incorporated the untold stories of Israeli soldiers of Ethiopian descent fighting in Gaza into works that also raise awareness for Mengistu.

In one piece, a soldier dressed in his uniform is sitting comfortably by a fence splitting southern Israel with Gaza. On the margins, Worke includes the number of days Mengistu has been in custody. Along the ground of the painting are pieces of bloodstained uniforms.

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“This is from a series of larger paintings I’m working on. And you can see the jump between this painting and the others. The difference in the colors and the themes,” she said. “These paintings were done only three months apart.”

Renowned singer-songwriter Bashar Murad on his studio balcony in East Jerusalem.

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Renowned singer-songwriter Bashar Murad on his studio balcony in East Jerusalem.

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Bashar Murad

Bashar Murad has long used pop music as a tool to express his experience as a Palestinian born within the “oppression” of the Israeli government, he said.

“I create pop music that kind of reflects my experience as a human born in this place and all the complexities that come with being born in this place,” he says. “I believe in the power of pop music to reach the masses to help share and spread messages of equality and love, which is what pop music is all about.”

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Murad frequently used social media to share his music and thoughts. That all changed shortly after war broke out in Gaza.

He said the feelings of depression and shock that struck him in the hours and days that followed left him homebound and essentially bed-ridden.

“For the first 20 days, I didn’t go out of my room, basically,” he said.

“The sad thing is that for a lot of people in the world, this feels like it’s the first time that these events are happening,” Murad said. “We have gone through a cycle of this ongoing violence. I’ve already written countless songs already throughout the years that actually talk about the same feeling that I’m feeling now. Maybe now it is times 1 million. But it’s the same feeling. It’s the same feeling of powerlessness and helplessness.”

This time there also emerged a new level of fear that Murad and other Palestinian artists hadn’t quite felt before. After the war began, Palestinians in Israel reported discrimination, firings and other threats of violence for simple social media posts criticizing the war.

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That scared many Palestinians in Israel, the West Bank and Gaza into silence, Murad said.

“It’s very dangerous for us artists, right now. There’s major censorship that is happening,” he said. “There is a war on the ground, there’s a war on social media, but there’s also a mental war and a war on our identities.”

Murad said he is trying to “be smarter with what I post” — a sentiment that Samara, the painter in Ramallah, also shared.

He said the fighting is not just a war with Gaza, “It’s a war on all Palestinians and all Palestinian identity.” He called it a “continuous struggle,” adding, “it’s not something that starts with an attack and ends with a ceasefire.”

Artist Addam Yekutieli with his dog in his studio. He works with testimonials from Palestinians, Israelis and others, including images of wounds and healing.

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Artist Addam Yekutieli with his dog in his studio. He works with testimonials from Palestinians, Israelis and others, including images of wounds and healing.

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Addam Yekutieli

“In how many ways can your heart break?”
“Whose trauma speaks louder than whose?”
“Can we ever be well?”

These are questions Addam Yekutieli has had rolling around in his mind ever since Oct. 7.

Yekutieli is a multidisciplinary artist based in Tel Aviv. In his ongoing projects, he has reflected on the ideas of scars and borders and the effect they have on people geographically, physically and psychologically.

“I’ve always dealt with kind of like political or social themes, but for a very long time, they were much more metaphorical than they are now,” he said.

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Yekutieli, like Worke, found it difficult to return to his normal workload after Oct. 7. About a month after the attacks, Yekutieli spoke about how his work has changed since the outbreak of the war.

“I haven’t really made any art since October 7,” he said in November. “I’ve been mainly writing since then.”

Artist Addam Yekutieli works with testimonials to make a collage.

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Artist Addam Yekutieli works with testimonials to make a collage.

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And what he’s been writing is a long list of questions he has on his mind and has shared it on social media. He calls these posts “questions with no answers.”

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“Over the past month and a half, I’ve had so many internal conversations and dialogues and kind of been really like talking myself into circles,” he said.

He posts questions like “What are your five stages of grief?” and “If you had it your way, what would happen?”

“I think that I just feel more comfortable with asking questions more than making statements. They feel more honest. It feels more of an authentic place to be in. And, I think that it also allows more reflection,” he said.

He said the tragedy shook him on a foundational level.

“I think that there are parts of me that feels very naïve. But it feels like everything is spiraling out of control, and becoming progressively worse and worse,” he said.

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Yekutieli acknowledged that as an Israeli artist he has a level of privilege to more comfortably share his thoughts and questions on a public domain like Instagram than his Palestinian artist peers who fear reprisal for doing so.

He believes a lot of the hostility toward Palestinians, activists and Israelis critical of their government comes from a place of deep desperation and grief.

“I think that things are very, very emotional,” he said. “And at the same time, I really think that it’s important, as much as we can, and as much as one feels comfortable with, to keep on being vocal.”

Hanna Tams (left) leads a dance class in his studio in East Jerusalem. Since Oct. 7, Tams says that he’s been able to use dance to express himself amidst the oppression he feels as a Palestinian in Jerusalem. ‘It’s not easy,” he said, “but I believe that it is really an important time to use dance.”

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Hanna Tams (left) leads a dance class in his studio in East Jerusalem. Since Oct. 7, Tams says that he’s been able to use dance to express himself amidst the oppression he feels as a Palestinian in Jerusalem. ‘It’s not easy,” he said, “but I believe that it is really an important time to use dance.”

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Hanna Tams

Dance has always been a source of healing for Hanna Tams, a professional dancer that specializes in contemporary and dabka styles.

As a Palestinian living in Jerusalem, Tams has faced oppression his whole life, he said. After the war broke out, it became even more complex and tense than before, he said.

“I was lucky to find dance as a friend,” he said. “I can resist through dancing. Other people don’t have this luxury.”

Tams is the founder of Douban Art Studio, which he opened in 2020 to serve his community’s youth to work through their emotions and struggles in a safe way.

But after Oct. 7, he retreated into himself and closed the studio for two weeks.

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“I really wasn’t able to do anything and I wasn’t feeling up to dance. I was sick,” he said.

It was the community he’s worked to serve that reached out to beg him to reopen and help the kids stuck at home.

Dancers rehearse in Hanna Tams’s studio in East Jerusalem.

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Dancers rehearse in Hanna Tams’s studio in East Jerusalem.

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They told him, “‘It’s the kids who are suffering. The kids have no school, they are at home and they are watching TV with us. They are afraid,’” Tams said.

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He reopened the studio, but not without difficulty. The studio is in East Jerusalem, in an area where Israeli soldiers constantly patrol the streets and stop Palestinian residents.

“It’s really frightening because every time I will be approached by a soldier who starts asking me why you’re coming here and you’re not allowed,” he said.

In November, Tams was able to perform in a timely show in Switzerland called “Last Things Remaining.” The show involved four dancers telling the story of Palestinians and the resilience it takes to live in this region.

He returned saying, “I need to serve this community. I need to serve these people who don’t have anything.”

When asked how he could still turn to art and especially dance in such a hard time, he said, “For me, the only way I can really help and I can really kind of connect, it’s [through] dancing.”

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He continued, “I think art is kind of the language of every culture, and it’s the language of hearts. So if you want to [get at] every heart, I think art is needed.”

Oren Fischer—an Israeli artist—shares his sketch book in a park outside a cafe. He is from a kibbutz in the south of Israel, and creates political commentary on recent events.

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Oren Fischer—an Israeli artist—shares his sketch book in a park outside a cafe. He is from a kibbutz in the south of Israel, and creates political commentary on recent events.

Tanya Habjouqa / NOOR Images for NPR

Oren Fischer

After the war started, Oren Fischer said he reached a point where he just couldn’t deal with any more words.

“So I started painting,” he said.

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In the first two weeks after the attacks, Fischer said he slept horribly and had nightmares based on what he was seeing on TV and social media.

He decided to make a change: Instead of doom scrolling each morning, Fischer would instead wake up and meditate on his feelings and “just try to puke it on the papers.”

Fischer, an artist who uses different mediums in his work like video, illustration and textiles, has been using paint and crayon in his sketchbook for these daily pieces. He describes his paintings as “childish” and “naïve” in a way even as it portrays horrors of the Oct. 7 attacks and the war.

“I thought, okay, if it’s bothering me, it’s probably something people really relate to. It’s probably not just me thinking about this,” he said.

“It helped me to heal myself. I made sort of a routine that I wake up and for a few hours I paint and upload on social media,” he said. “So I created my own world inside the catastrophe.”

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Oren Fischer’s political cartoon of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

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Oren Fischer’s political cartoon of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

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Like much of his past work, this series of paintings has been deeply critical of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his government, blaming their policies as the spark that led to the attack.

Fischer painted a sketch of Netanyahu with vibrant reds, yellows, oranges and blues of the prime minister with blood on his hands. In the background are Hamas attackers shooting people and homes burning. The image was later used on the cover of an Israeli newspaper.

Fischer said his work has been criticized by some people who misunderstood his sketches as him attacking Palestinians, when the work is really turning criticism to the Israeli government.

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Ultimately, Fischer said the impact of the attacks and the ongoing war “is everywhere. You cannot hide from it.”

NPR’s Jaclyn Diaz reported from Tel Aviv, Ramallah and Jerusalem. Freelance producer Eve Guterman contributed to this report.

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To be or not to be a parent : It’s Been a Minute

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To be or not to be a parent : It’s Been a Minute

Could you see your life just as easily with children as without? 

What if you’re not cut out for parenthood? What if you grow lonely in your old age? Or what if you have a loving partner, but you disagree on this choice? Deciding between parenthood and a child-free life requires clarity about your fears and deepest desires — no easy task. This episode, psychotherapist and author of the book, The Baby Decision, Merle Bombardieri, helps us get clear. She discusses minimizing regret, normalizing feeling ‘stuck’ and why waiting to have a baby at 38 may be best. 

Want more about the decision to have kids? 

Many women don’t want kids. And for good reason.
Why are people freaking out about the birth rate?

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Support Public Media. Join NPR Plus.

Follow Brittany on Instagram: @bmluse

For handpicked podcast recommendations every week, subscribe to NPR’s Pod Club newsletter at npr.org/podclub.

Additional support for this episode came from Alexis Williams. It was edited by Neena Pathak. Our Supervising Producer is Cher Vincent. Our Executive Producer is Barton Girdwood. Our VP of Programming is Yolanda Sangweni.

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Ahead of America’s 250th birthday, a photographer finds unity in tarnished state quarters

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Ahead of America’s 250th birthday, a photographer finds unity in tarnished state quarters

“E Pluribus Unum,” or “Out of many, one.”

That phrase, engraved on some quarters photographer Blaise Hayward was counting in his New York City kitchen in July 2023, intrigued him. They were marks of the 50 State Quarters, a series of coins issued by the U.S. Mint from 1999 to 2008 for which each coin featured a symbol representing one of the 50 states.

With Hayward’s growing concern about the vitriolic condition of American politics, the phrase felt resonant.

Blaise Hayward looks over printed works of his “Quarters of Confederation” series, highlighting Canadian coins.

(Blake Ogden)

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That moment sparked his photo series, “America ~ The Statehood Quarters,” and sent him on a quest to the bank to find every coin. Now a collection of 50 images, one for each state’s quarter, the series explores American unity, shared history and constant exchange.

“My goal was to gather these coins and present them in a cohesive, inclusive manner. Every state is represented,” Hayward said. “Everybody’s equal. It’s about equality, representation.”

Those interested can find his photos on his website, where he sells editioned images of the coins, ranging from $1,200 to $5,000.

Ahead of the United States’ 250th anniversary on Saturday, Hayward reflects on the series and its relevance today.

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This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Your photographs remind me of portraits. As large close-ups, each quarter has a unique character. Tell me about your approach to capturing them.

I started my career in the 1980s, and I was an analog photographer. I was late to digital. These are all captured digitally, as is most of my work now, but the most important aspect to my work is that it has an analog feel to it.

My goal was to present it as realistically and honestly as possible. I photographed them as they are, and I also do that with my portraiture. I’m a portrait photographer at heart, and portraiture is my first love. But I’ve found with my fine art career that unless they’re famous people, people aren’t drawn to buying portraits and hanging them in their house. But they are drawn to still life, so a lot of my artwork now is centered on still life. My portrait background probably played a subconscious role in how I presented the quarters.

The California state quarter.

The California state quarter.

(Blaise Hayward)

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In your photographs, the quarters are old and tarnished, not shiny and new. Why?

That was important to me. If you go onto Wikipedia and type in “Statehood Quarters,” they photographed all 50 of them. They’re bright, shiny, right out of the Mint. I made a conscious decision to photograph them in circulation. I wanted them to emulate the hands they’ve passed through and illustrate the history of the country and the state.

How do you think about the people who held these quarters in relation to the project as a whole?

I think it tells the story of commerce and the story of exchange. I imagine there are a couple in there where people saved up some quarters and bought something personal. Some of these quarters could’ve been collected by children, and then they could’ve gone out and bought their first candy bar. Or they could’ve put the quarters in the soda fountain machine and got a Coca-Cola and been so excited.

I’m very attached to coins and bills. I see the artistry in it. It’s unfortunate that we’re going toward a society where we won’t have that tactile feeling anymore. There’s a difference between holding a handful of money and paying for a good than pulling your phone out and tapping.

The Delaware state quarter.

The Delaware state quarter.

(Blaise Hayward)

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You’re originally from Toronto, and have lived in New York for the last 30 years. How has living in the U.S. as an immigrant shaped the way you perceive America and represent it in this series?

It allows me to be an outsider looking in. I love the fact that I’m Canadian. It’s a badge of honor for me. It allows me to have a more sympathetic, wider and different understanding of what it’s like to live in the States.

With the “Statehood Quarters,” I don’t know if it influenced me when I photographed the project. I was just in awe of the history. If you start reading about the States and how the whole country came together, all of the people that made that journey were immigrants. Unless you’re Native American, we’re all immigrants here. I thought about that a couple of times because I was reading about the people that started it all.

Your series centers unity in a time of extreme divisiveness in American politics, whether it’s surrounding the federal crackdown on immigration or LGBTQ+ rights, among other issues. What does “unity” look like to you in this context? What do you feel Americans should be united on?

Americans could stand to be united on what a great country this is, even though at this present moment it’s not feeling like that for everybody. America is a great country. It’s been a beacon of democracy since its founding, and countries all over the world have held it in such high esteem.

Without giving away my political leanings — I don’t even mean to go there — sadly, in this present moment, I don’t think the country is showing its best self. We could stand to take a step back and reflect on the history and unity of the country. We could stand some compassion. We could stand some understanding. We could stand to be better listeners.

We don’t always have to agree. It’s just vitriol out there. It’s tearing the country apart. I think it will be a collective effort on both sides of the aisle for us to come together and dial the heat down.

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I’m hoping that on this 250th anniversary, people put their political leanings aside and celebrate America. It’s got so much potential to be that beacon again, that leader in the world. At the end of the day, why can’t we just embrace “E Pluribus Unum”? Out of many, we are one. We are one nation.

For many people, America’s 250th anniversary will be a time of celebration and patriotism. For many others, it will be a time of criticism and protest. How do you feel your series engages each of these attitudes?

I hope that people look at the series and look at the country in a broader stroke, and say, “Wow. What an amazing collection. This ‘Statehood Quarters’ collection is so inclusive and symbolic of this great nation. Look at all these beautiful coins from these beautiful states.”

Kansas is one of my favorite coins. I’ve never been to Kansas, but the coin in the collection made me appreciate the state. It has gotten me thinking I’d like to visit every state and meet the people and have a meal and see what they’re like and see the landscape. I hope this collection inspires people to celebrate the country as a whole rather than looking at it state to state.

The Kansas Statehood Quarter.

The Kansas Statehood Quarter.

(Blaise Hayward)

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What does it mean to “celebrate the country”?

I’m an outdoor person and a nature person. For me, it means celebrating the land, and with that, celebrating the people in that land.

I was listening to somebody on the radio who was here for the World Cup. They were from Morocco, and they said every person they’ve met in New York has been so nice.

It’s time for this country to start being nicer to each other. I hope this project helps people be a little bit more kind to each other, a little bit more tolerant, a little bit more understanding, a little bit more loving and a little bit more hospitable.

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House Democrats accuse Trump of ‘hijacking’ America’s 250th birthday for his own gain

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House Democrats accuse Trump of ‘hijacking’ America’s 250th birthday for his own gain

President Trump speaks at a rally kicking off the Great American State Fair last week, part of the anniversary celebrations organized by White House-backed group Freedom 250.

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As America’s birthday celebrations kick into high gear, so too do criticisms of the preeminent national group organizing them, Freedom 250.

Democrats on the House Natural Resources Committee published a 55-page report Thursday accusing the group of aiding President Trump in turning America’s milestone into a “hotbed of corruption and self-enrichment” through tactics that potentially amount to criminal fraud.

It’s titled “From Vanity to Insanity: How the White House Cheated the American People out of their 250th Birthday.”

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Rep. Jared Huffman of California, the ranking Democrat on the committee, told NPR that the report was months in the making. It is based on interviews with unnamed whistleblowers, sworn Congressional testimony, internal Freedom 250 documents and other written responses.

“We put it all together to really tell the story … of how Donald Trump hijacked what should have been a unifying national celebration and repurposed it for his own interests,” Huffman said in a Zoom interview. “This was a team of operatives using the Freedom 250 shell company, but it was also Donald Trump himself telling them what to do.”

The White House referred a request for comment to Freedom 250, though Freedom 250 told NPR that it does not speak for the White House.

Freedom 250 is the public-private partnership behind some of the summer’s most high-profile anniversary events, including a UFC fight outside the White House in June, a controversial state fair on the National Mall, a July Fourth fireworks show opening with a Trump rally, and the “Patriot Games,” a high school athletic competition scheduled for August.

It was created via executive order last year, and describes itself as “the national, non-partisan organization leading the celebration of our Nation’s 250th birthday.” But it’s not the only one: Congress had created a nonpartisan commission called America250 for this same purpose in 2016.

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