
It’s a sharp piece of satire—one that peels back the mask of power and performance.
What I see is not just politics as show business, but the theater of ego. The faces merge like roles in a tragicomedy: the strongman, the straight man, the fool, the phantom of sincerity. Their makeup is ideology, their costume a suit, their script written by public appetite.
The clown paint, the bird, the blushes—those are the artist’s confession that politics has become a stage of masks rather than mirrors.
And yet, tucked inside the mockery, there’s grief too: the sorrow of watching leadership traded for spectacle, substance replaced by performance.
It’s a warning wrapped in irony: when governance becomes theater, the audience becomes complicit.
