Top 10+ Masterpieces to Celebrate This 4th of July Weekend
- “God Bless America” (1918), by Irving Berlin
- “The Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776” (1786-1820), by John Trumbull
- “Passage of the Delaware” (1819), by Thomas Sully
- “The Union: Concert Paraphrase on National Airs” (1862), by Louis Moreau Gottschalk
- “The Stars and Stripes Forever” (1896), by John Philip Sousa
- “The Fourth of July, 1916” (1916), by Childe Hassam
- “The Star-Spangled Banner” (1814), by Francis Scott Key
- “Equestrian Statue of George Washington” (1856), by Henry Kirke Brown
- “Paul Revere’s Ride” (1860), by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- “Flag” (1954-55), by Jasper Johns
The American experiment has inspired artists for over two centuries. Stirring songs, historical paintings, commemorative statues and other works salute our nation’s enduring legacy and ever-evolving identity. Below, a collection of essays highlight the relationship between American artistry and patriotism.
“God Bless America” (1918), by Irving Berlin

The song is simple: dignified and foursquare; patriotic, not chauvinistic; full of love, but not sloppily sentimental. Berlin called it “an expression of my feeling toward the country to which I owe what I have and what I am.” For him, the national and the personal were the same thing. (He donated all the song’s royalties to the Boy and Girl Scouts of America.)
“The Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776” (1786-1820), by John Trumbull

No painting by an American artist has been so familiar to so many people for so very long as John Trumbull’s “The Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776.” It is an American icon if ever there was one, as much nearly as the Declaration of Independence itself, and the original canvas, at the Yale University Art Gallery, is both a national treasure and the most important work of a long-acknowledged American master.
“Passage of the Delaware” (1819), by Thomas Sully

Thomas Sully is unique among American painters for the quiet yet theatrical intensity of his work and his ability to draw the viewer into the drama. His “Passage of the Delaware” (1819) masterfully and accurately captures a moment of supreme importance to the American Revolution. That moment comes at about 3 a.m. on Dec. 26, 1776. The sky is ominous, as it is snowing. A half-rooted, blighted tree well symbolizes America’s predicament.
“The Union: Concert Paraphrase on National Airs” (1862), by Louis Moreau Gottschalk

The best Fourth of July celebration I could give myself would be to play through (even sloppily) Louis Moreau Gottschalk’s dazzling display of fireworks, “The Union: Concert Paraphrase on National Airs.” It’s a terrific concoction of approximately eight minutes of American patriotic tunes, where Gottschalk weaves together “Yankee Doodle,” “Hail, Columbia” and “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the last not yet the official anthem of the United States. Composed in 1862, Gottschalk (1829-1869) dedicated “The Union” to his favorite Union general, George B. McClellan.
“The Stars and Stripes Forever” (1896), by John Philip Sousa

This Fourth of July, during a day of parades, baseball and barbecues, somewhere, close by, a marching band surely will be playing John Philip Sousa’s most American of marches, as we anticipate the rockets’ red glare in the night sky and commemorate together another year of American democracy.
“The Fourth of July, 1916” (1916), by Childe Hassam

One in a series of over two dozen flag paintings that Hassam undertook between 1916 and 1919, it is the most exuberant and beautiful of the group. (It also has an illustrious provenance; former owners include Frank Sinatra and Brooke Astor.) For Hassam (1859-1935) and for America, this was a crucial period of transition. World War I had been under way in Europe for two years, and the U.S. was torn between neutrality and engagement.
“The Star-Spangled Banner” (1814), by Francis Scott Key

The British Attack of Fort McHenry, Baltimore in 1812
More lastingly, the melody ran through Key’s mind again during the Battle of Baltimore, a crucial episode of the War of 1812. He had journeyed to the British fleet in Chesapeake Bay to request the release of a noncombatant Maryland physician who had been unjustly arrested. Detained overnight on a British frigate lest he betray the planned British attack on Fort McHenry, which defended Baltimore harbor, Key anxiously witnessed the British bombardment of the fort, during which HMS Erebus sent hundreds of red-glaring rockets into the night sky while five other British ships armed with heavy mortars fired hundreds of “bombs bursting in air.” At dawn on Sept. 14, 1814, Key was inspired by the sight of the American flag victoriously waving above the fort to jot down the first stanza of verses he subsequently called “Defense of Fort McHenry.”
“Equestrian Statue of George Washington” (1856), by Henry Kirke Brown

There, admirers planted the large, tattered American flag that had come under attack at Sumter—Maj. Robert Anderson had brought it with him to Manhattan—on the massive likeness. Orator William M. Evarts declared: “I tell you that when the statue of Washington sustains in its firm hand the splintered flag-staff of Fort Sumter, it means something.” The work still does.
“Paul Revere’s Ride” (1860), by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Hardly a man is now alive who hasn’t encountered the opening lines of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s most famous poem: “Listen, my children, and you shall hear / Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.”
Before the original publication of “Paul Revere’s Ride,” Revere’s story went mostly unheard. The folk hero of the American Revolution was only half-remembered in Massachusetts and almost totally forgotten everywhere else. It took the poetic craft of Longfellow to rescue Revere from obscurity, transforming him into the patriotic icon he remains today.
“Flag” (1954-55), by Jasper Johns

“Flag” confirms the belief that there are no accidents in a Johns work, that if the artist had changed any one decision he had settled on in the making of it, the result would have been diminished. His process may have been painstaking, but the finished work seems, simply, to have come into being on its own. One is sometimes disappointed to see a famous painting “live”; works can appear less heroic than expected, or distort an idealized mental picture. Not so “Flag,” which is more arresting up close, where the hand of the artist is so palpable, than in reproductions.